Page 6 of Falling for the Sheriff

Atlas

My fingers find the button of her jeans, and the simple act feels like the most important thing I’ve ever done. The denim is soft under my touch. I pop the button slowly, the sound loud in the quiet of the room. The zipper comes down next, a low rasp that has her breath catching in her throat.

I hook my fingers into the waistband, both denim and the soft cotton of her panties beneath, and slowly, so slowly, I pull them down her legs.

She lifts her hips to help me, a silent, beautiful cooperation that makes my blood run hot.

I toss them aside, my eyes drinking in the sight of her, finally bare and waiting for me.

I kneel on the floor between her legs, my hands sliding up the smooth skin of her thighs. I look up the length of her body, meeting her heavy-lidded gaze.

“I’ve been starving to get my mouth on you this whole time,” I tell her, my voice a hungry thing I barely recognize. “Since the moment you stepped inside the police department.”

A beautiful, deep blush spreads across her chest and up her neck.

She doesn’t complain, doesn’t shy away. Instead, she lets her head fall back against the blankets with a soft sigh, and she spreads her thighs for me in a gesture of such perfect, trusting surrender that it steals the air from my lungs.

She looks down at me, her eyes wide and shimmering with disbelief. “Tell me I’m not dreaming. I’ve… I’ve imagined this so many times. I’m struggling to believe it’s really happening.”

I lean forward, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of her thigh, feeling her tremble under my lips. “It’s real, Alice,” I murmur against her skin, my breath ghosting over her most intimate heat.

I don’t wait for a reply. I close the final inch between my mouth and her, and I taste her.

The first touch of my tongue to her center feels like a rush. She’s sweet and musky, a flavor uniquely hers that I know will be seared into my memory forever.

A low, guttural groan tears from my throat, the sound vibrating against her as I lick a slow, deliberate stripe through her slick folds. I’m melting. I’ve imagined this a thousand times, but the reality is a thousand times better. I’m starving, and she’s a feast.

My cock is throbbing in my jeans, a painful, insistent pressure begging for release. It wants in, wants to be buried deep inside the heat I’m tasting, but I’ll be damned if I don’t make her feel good first.

I slide my hands under her thighs, spreading her wider open for me, and I delve deep. My tongue pushes inside her, and the broken, keening sound she makes above me is the best thing I’ve ever heard.

Her hips jerk off the bed, seeking more pressure, and I gladly give it to her. I worship her with my mouth, licking and sucking, knowing what makes her gasp, what makes her fingers clutch at the ruffled blankets beneath her.

Then her hands are in my hair, her nails scraping against my scalp.

It doesn’t hurt; it feels good. It feels like ownership, like she’s anchoring herself to me, and the possessiveness that surges through me is blinding.

I look up, my gaze meeting hers over the trembling curve of her stomach.

Her eyes are glazed, her lips parted on ragged breaths.

“Atlas…” she moans, my name a plea on her lips.

That’s all the encouragement I need. I find her clit with the flat of my tongue, circling it with a relentless rhythm I know will unravel her.

I drink her in, lost in the taste of her, the sounds she’s making, the way her body is yielding to me completely.

My own need is a secondary thrum, a distant ache.

Her hips lift off the bed, a silent, desperate plea for more. She grinds against my mouth, chasing her release with a frantic demand that pushes me right to the edge of my own control. Then, she stiffens.

A sharp, broken cry is torn from her throat as her release hits her. A whole-body shiver wracks through her, her thighs trembling where they bracket my head, her fingers clutching my hair like she’s afraid I’ll disappear on her.

I work her through it, until her grip on my hair loosens and she collapses back onto the mattress, boneless and breathless.

Standing up, I tower over her, my own breathing ragged. Her eyes are heavy-lidded and sated, watching me with a kind of awe that makes my chest feel too tight. I grab the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head in one swift motion, tossing it to join our growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Her gaze rakes over me, from my shoulders down to my abs, and a slow, appreciative smile spreads across her kiss-swollen lips.

“Gosh, you’re…” she breathes out, shaking her head slightly as if words fail her. She bites her lip, trying and failing to contain a dizzy, happy smile. Then her eyes lower, trailing down my chest, past my belt, and her smile turns wicked. “And you’re… really impressive down there, too.”

A hot flush of embarrassment creeps up my neck. I can feel it. I wasn’t exactly trying to hide my reaction to her, but having her say it out loud, with that look in her eye… I run a hand through my hair, a sheepish, cheeky grin pulling at my mouth.

“Well,” I say, my voice husky. “You can’t blame a man for being excited. It’s been a long time coming. I mean, if you want to go the whole mile and all.”

She nods, a quick, jerky motion, her eyes dark and glazed with a need that mirrors my own. Her hand moves between her thighs, a slow, restless circle over her core, and the sight of it—her touching herself because of me, because she’s that wound up—is almost enough to undo me right there.

“Three months,” she breathes out, the words a soft, confessional sigh. “It’s a long time to not be with another man… since you.”

The new information hits me like a physical blow, a surge of pure, male satisfaction so potent it makes my head spin.

She hasn’t been with anyone else. The possessive, primal part of me I keep on a tight leash roars to the surface, pleased and ravenous.

I don’t waste a second. I shove my jeans and boxers down in one rough, impatient movement, kicking them off my ankles until I’m standing there before her, completely bare.

Her gaze drops, raking over me from head to toe, and her lips part on a sharp, audible inhale. The approval in her eyes is a beaming light.

I climb back onto the bed, my focus absolute. I take her foot in my hand, pressing a kiss to her ankle before I pluck the first sock off, then the other, tossing them aside.

Every inch of her is going to be mine. I move over her, my body caging hers, and my fingers find the clasp of her bra. With a flick, it comes undone. I peel the lace away, revealing her to me, to the dim light of the room. Perfect.

I lower my mouth to her breast, capturing a taut peak, sucking deep until she cries out, her back arching off the mattress.

I lavish one, then the other, using my mouth and tongue to distract her, to make her forget everything but the feel of me.

While she’s writhing, lost in the sensation, I reach between us.

I guide myself through her slick folds, collecting her wetness on the tip of my cock. The feeling is exquisite torture, hot and silken. I groan against her skin, my hips giving an involuntary thrust against her thigh.

“You feel that?” I rasp, my voice thick and foreign to my own ears. “How hard I am for you?”

She nods again, her hips lifting like she doesn’t have the patience to wait until I’m satisfied with teasing her.

Brows furrowing, I lean back just far enough to see the first inch of my cock disappear inside of her. Watching, completely mesmerized, we sigh as I sink deeper.

“I’ll be careful,” I promise her as I fight not to bottom out just from discovering her wet heat all over again.

I don’t expect the soft, breathy laugh that escapes her lips.

“I’m not going to break, Atlas. I’m only a few months along.

” As if to prove her point, she wiggles her hips, and the sensation wrings a ragged groan from me.

Then, with a soft sigh of impatience, she hooks her ankles against the small of my back, crossing them firmly at my tailbone and pulling me in. “I want all of you.”

The command undoes me. I’m forced to thrust my way inside, fully sheathed in one smooth, deep stroke. We groan together, a single, guttural sound of pure pleasure, and just like that, my balls are tight and tingling, a warning shot fired up my spine.

No. There is no way in hell I’m going to bust early. Not when I finally have the woman of my dreams naked and willing beneath me.

I find a rhythm, a deep, rolling cadence that has her arching off the bed. Her nails score my back, her breath coming in sharp, sweet cries against my ear.

The bed rocks against the wall, a steady, frantic beat to our coupling. Sweat slicks our skin, making us glide and stick, the air thick with the scent of us, of sex and passion and something infinitely sweeter.

I drive into her, again and again, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge. Her eyes are locked on mine, dazed, seeing straight into the fractured, desperate core of me.

“Be mine, Alice,” I beg, the words torn from me. I can’t hold them back. “I don’t care how. My girlfriend, my wife… I just… I need to be able to call you mine.”

“Yes,” she gasps, her body beginning to tighten around me. “Yes, Atlas. I’m yours. I’ve always been yours.”

The words are my undoing. Her pussy clamps down on me, a second, shocking orgasm rolling through her, and I feel every exquisite ripple.

A curse leaves my lips before I’m thrusting deeper, burying myself to the hilt as my own release erupts, hot and endless.

I moan her name against the damp skin of her throat, my entire world narrowing to the feel of her milking me dry, to the way her ankles are locked against me, holding me inside, ensuring not a single drop is wasted.

There was no point in pulling out. I wouldn’t have even if I could.

I collapse onto her, careful to keep my weight on my elbows, but she holds me tight, her legs still wrapped around me, refusing to let me go.

Our hearts hammer a frantic, synchronized rhythm against each other’s chests.

The room spins slowly back into place, leaving only the two of us, tangled together, breathless, and finally, completely, each other’s.

I press a soft, lingering kiss to the fluttering pulse at the base of her throat, then another to her parted lips before I finally move to lie beside her. I pull her into my side, her head finding its perfect place on my shoulder, my arm a heavy, comfortable weight around her.

The silence is warm and filled with a contentment so deep it aches. I trace idle patterns on her stomach.

“Can I stay the night?” I ask, my voice unsteady.

She lets out a soft, breathy laugh that vibrates against my chest. “Obviously.”

I smile, pressing a kiss into her hair. I take a deeper breath, the next question feeling bigger, more important. “Can I stick around in the morning, too?” I ask, my tone gentler, more serious. “Scavenge your cabinets? Cook you breakfast?”

I feel her breath catch. She lifts her head to look at me, and her eyes are welling up with an emotion so pure it’s unmistakable happiness. She nods, a quick, joyful motion.

“I’d like that.” She bites her lip, a shy, hopeful look crossing her features. “Maybe… maybe tomorrow we could have dinner, too? At your cabin?”

My heart swells, a feeling so fierce and bright it’s almost painful. I love the idea. More than love it. I cup her cheek, my thumb stroking her skin. “Yeah,” I say, my voice thick with a promise. “Yeah, that sounds perfect.”

I pull her back down against me, holding her close. For the first time in a long while, the future doesn’t seem like an endless void. It feels like this. Like a happiness that’s more than enough for a man.