Page 106 of Devil in Disguise

He was still thinking it when she steadied herself with both hands on the bed behind her, and slid right back over him again. And started to move.

He’d always wanted a cowgirl.

And a reverse cowgirl? Yeah, he’d take that, too.

Dyma, taking her pleasure, trying out one angle, then another. Moving fast, then slow. Grinding into him, then getting her hand into the action. On herself, and then on him. Her fingers in a V-shape, squeezing him at the base, and rubbing herself, too. Starting to breathe harder. Starting to make some noise. Leaning back into him with all her flexibility, then coming slowly upright again.

“I won’t … be a … toy,” she gasped, even as she was being, yeah, his toy.

“Nope,” he said, and got his own hand in there to help her out. Which froze her where she was, and made her lean back again, so he had to hold her.

“I won’t … be second.”

“Nope.” Both hands on her hips, now, because she had to be getting tired, and besides … besides, the bull knew his job. Shoving her down, and then back up again. “Come on,” he said. “Show me how you play with yourself.”

She did, and her breathing quickened again, and so did his.

“I’m not going to … have sex anytime you say,” she managed to gasp out.

“Nope.” Moving her faster now, going deeper.

“I’m … in charge of me.”

“Yeah. You are.” More of a groan. She was close now, and the bands were twisting inside him, too, tightening more and more. Right now,hewas in charge of her, but he was keeping that to himself.

Or not, because she was saying, “I can’t. I need … I need …” And, well, what could you do? He was pulling her off him, lifting her, turning her, and she was scrambling to her hands and knees so he could shove his way inside. Her hand helping herself out, and his hands pulling her back into him.

“Arch your back for me,” he told her. “Show me that.” She did, and moaned some more, too, because it felt even better that way, made him hit the spot in the way she liked.

“Still not … in charge,” she said.

“Uh-huh.” He was going hard now, one hand pulling her into him, the other rubbing over her ass, her low back. She went right down onto her elbows, and he smacked her a little, just to encourage her.

There you go. There she went. Tightening around him, so he smacked her a little more, and she was making those noises, those wailing, “Ah-ah-ahhh”sounds that meant a woman was coming hard.

He rode her all the way through it. Big and tough and in charge.

But not.

Whatever worked.

* * *

She said,when he was sprawled over her, breathing hard, his weight pressing her down in that totally satisfying way that you could only enjoy after the kind of orgasm that had wrung you out, “I meant it.”

“Uh-huh.” He moved her hair aside and kissed the side of her neck, then kissed his way down her spine.

“Everybody was saying these, ah …” His mouth feltreallygood. Had she known the back was an erogenous zone? She had not. “Incredibly sexist things about what your job was as an NFL girlfriend. That I had to have sex … oh, that feels so good … anytime you wanted. To make you feel like a man. Excuse me? If you’re a rancherandyou play just about the most violent sport in America, shouldn’t you already feel like a man?”

“Uh-huh,” he said again, and kept on kissing her.

“Like your masculinity is that fragile. Also that I couldn’t ask you to … mmm … do anything at home. Guess Harlan didn’t get … the memo.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Owen. Are you listening?”

“Yep. Your own woman. I’m not in charge. Got it.”