Page 39 of For Cowgirls and Kings (The Trauma Bonded #2)

“Yes, I want to be a good boy for you. I…I guess, I’d want to touch your tits.

It’s not that I don’t want to touch your pussy because god, it’s taking every cell in my body not to devour you right now, but because I saw them first. I’ve had the image of your heavy, perfectly freckled, cherry tipped tits stuck in my head since Christmas.

I’ve pictured nothing else but pulling one in to my mouth—tasting them.

Are they sweet, or tart like cherries? Will your skin be as soft as it looks? ”

I’m about ready to walk out of the room and demand a damn minute. His words cut through me so completely, and I feel wild, so far out of control, it should be terrifying. But it’s not.

“Taste them, Mateo. You tell me.”

“Yes, cowgirl.” Okay, the way he growled cowgirl that time? I’m definitely getting behind this name.

Both of his hands slide over my ribs, cupping the underside of each of my breasts, pointing the dark nipples towards his face.

I’ve always thought I had average sized tits, not too small but definitely not too big either.

But the way they spill over Mateo’s enormous hold—fuck, they must be bigger than I thought. Does he like that?

“They’re so fucking soft—so fucking beautiful.” He leans in, finally capturing one of my nipples in the warm heat of his mouth, and I moan, tipping my head back with the sensation of it. He’s going to be the death of me.

He groans around my nipple, sending little vibrations to shoot straight to my dripping center. He begins to suck harder, as if he can’t control himself any longer, pulling as much of my soft flesh into his mouth as he can fit.

The nipple pops free of his hold, only for him to shift, taking the other one into his mouth. He tugs and pulls at it, his teeth nipping at the bud, making my legs tremble. His grip on my breast is hard and punishing, and I relish the fact that he seems to have forgotten the bruises.

I want him to forget. I want him to see me as whole— strong and sturdy —even if I’m not the same as I was before. I want to see myself that way.

“You taste so sweet,” he mumbles around my tits, and then lifts back, like he’s going to take the first one back into his mouth again. Instead he pushes them together, creating a deep valley, leaning over, and spitting between them.

I never thought spit would be hot. But Holy Fuck.

“Again,” I growl. He obeys, spitting between my tits a second time, and I watch the liquid pool between them, before he rubs the skin together, the mounds slick with his spit, gliding across each other dirtier than it has any right to be .

Mateo shifts, focusing once more on my nipples, placing firm, flat tongued licks over each peak, fast and hard. “Fuck, I need more.”

“I want to fuck these perfect tits. But Dale”— Fuck I want him to fuck my tits too— “I want to fuck your pussy worse. Can I? Can I be your first?”

There’s no reservation, no disgust. There’s only that desperate, heavy yearning I’ve heard in his voice repeatedly, and it feeds that twisted part of me that loves having something he wants. Something he’ll bow and beg for.

“How do you want to fuck my pussy?” I really hope he answers, because even in my wildest imagination, I never actually pictured how my first time would go. It always seemed more likely that I’d either just skip it and be well-used the way everyone assumed I was, or to remain a virgin forever.

I certainly never imagined my first time to be with someone like Mateo. Or with someone with a cock the size of a horse’s.

The image of his dick flashes in my mind, and I instantly feel nervous. What if he doesn’t fit? I know guys like it tight, but surely that’s going to be too tight.

“I can see you getting nervous. Talk to me, please. I promise there’s nothing I won’t like, nothing.” His words are so certain, and for that part, I believe him.

“What—” I nibble my lip. “What if it doesn’t fit?”

His lips twitch, like he’s fighting off a smirk, and part of me wishes he’d let it shine through. I could use some comedic relief in this moment. Everything feels so serious, and I’m quickly realizing I might be in over my head.

“I’ll make it fit.” My eyes snap to his, fire racing through my veins. He’ll make it fit? Am I in one of my dirty novels right now? How is he real?

“What way feels the best?” I ask, hating the note of uncertainty in my voice. I’m desperately trying to stay in character.

“Each person is different. Some like missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy style…”

I snort. “Cowgirl? Now you’re just making shit up.” I’ve seen porn, lots of porn, but I don’t remember that one.

Now he does smirk, the slash of his lips devastating, and I wobble on my feet. “It’s just the name when you ride me, chest to chest. Typically it’s used when you’re wanting to finish—most women who are able to come, can do it in cowgirl.”

“Some women can’t come?” I sound like a twelve year old girl learning about the birds and the bees for the first time, and I hate it.

I’ve never been able to ask someone these questions before, and there’s only so much you can learn on the internet if you don’t even know the right questions to ask.

I’ve always been able to make myself come.

“Some, but”—he darts his tongue out, licking my nipple again—“I don’t think you’ll have a problem with that. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Okay, I want to do that one. I want to ride you, like a cowgirl.” I smirk at myself, and his eyes glitter back at me hungrily. “Can…can we do it on your bed?”

He doesn’t respond, instead stands up, scooping me into his arms once more, and sets me on the edge of the bed.

“I’ll lay down, and when you’re ready, you can climb on top.”

He stretches out, his six feet and several inches eating up most of the mattress. Even laying down his muscles ripple, abs flexing.

Michelangelo would call this “Giant Stallion lying down.”

My heart pounds like a drum as I climb on top of his form, my body soft where his is hard. I stare at him beneath me—my scratches covering his glistening skin, and I lean forward licking at them.

“Fuck baby,” he groans. I moan in response, aching like I’ve never ached between my thighs, and lick him again. He’s salty, his blood and sweat mixing, and it’s enough for me to feel the heady thrum of desire like a live wire between us—shimmering and ready to be stroked.

I slowly shift my hips lower until I sit fully on his cock, still flat against his belly. I twist forward and backward, the ridges and veins delicious against my wet heat. How good will it feel when he’s finally inside? I coat the outside of his cock with my wetness.

“Grab my hips Mateo. Move me how it feels good. Show me.” I lick at his nipple and he hisses. He grips my hips, making me grind against his throbbing cock in a way that has an orgasm already shimmering just beneath the surface.

“I don’t fucking deserve you, but fuck, I’ll bow at your feet as long as you let me keep touching you,” he murmurs.

It’s enough to snap my remaining reservations. It’s now or never, and I refuse to go another day without knowing what a real cock feels like inside of me. Especially one as beautiful and eager as Mateo’s.

I sit up, having to push onto my knees to have enough space to stand his dick up with my free hand between us, and then lower an inch. I immediately pause, stretching to a point of pain.

“Fuck, what if I make a mess?” I’ve used dildos— a giant black one coming to mind —but the thought of potentially bleeding on his bed, sends a spear of uncertainty through me.

“It’ll be the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he hisses, his arms quivering.

“Kiss me then, Mateo. Kiss me while you take me.”

He leans up, letting go of my hip with one hand, threading his other through my hair, and pulls my lips to his.

And then he shifts his hips upward so slowly, sinking further and further inside of me.