Page 7 of His Big Hometown Cowboy (Bigger Is Best #1)

I hauled him to his feet, crashing my mouth down on his, tasting myself on his tongue, reclaiming him. Our bodies pressed together, skin against skin, heat against heat. Cocks slid against each other, slick and hard, eliciting twin gasps.

“On the bed.” The order came out rough against his lips. “On your back. Now.” I needed to see him laid out for me. Needed to explore every inch. “Going to eat that tight ass until you’re begging me to fuck you.”

A low moan tore from his throat. He scrambled onto the mattress without argument, eager compliance shining in his eyes. He spread his legs, propping himself up on his elbows, one hand finding his own cock, stroking lazily as he watched me crawl onto the bed.

“Any idea how many times I’ve jerked off to the thought of you spreading me open like this?” His voice was breathy, strained with anticipation. “How many times I’ve fingered myself, imagining it was your cock inside me?”

My control, already frayed, slipped another notch. His confession, his blatant honesty about wanting me, wanting this , was devastatingly hot. “Show me,” I commanded, my voice thick. “Show me how you touched yourself thinking of me.”

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, then a wicked smile spread across his face.

He lifted his fingers to his mouth, sucking them wet with deliberate slowness, eyes locked on mine.

Then he reached down between his spread legs.

I shifted back slightly, needing to watch.

His slick fingers circled his tight entrance before pressing inward. One finger. Slowly.

“Would think about you.” His eyes fluttered shut for a moment before snapping back to mine. He worked the finger deeper. “How big your hands are. How rough they’d feel.” He added a second finger, a soft gasp escaping his lips. “How thick your cock would feel stretching me. Filling me up.”

His words, the sight of him pleasuring himself, talking about me. My cock throbbed, aching with the need to bury myself inside him. I reached blindly for the lube on the nightstand, slicking my fingers generously as I watched him fuck himself with those slow, deliberate strokes.

“Let me.” My voice was a low growl. I gently pushed his hand away, replacing his fingers with mine. Larger. Thicker.

The tight heat of him clenched around my digits, sending another wave of pure need crashing through me. I pressed deeper, exploring, searching for that spot I knew would make him come undone.

Found it.

His back arched sharply off the bed, a choked cry tearing from his throat. His hips lifted, seeking more pressure. “Fuck! Right there, Wyatt! Don’t stop!”

“Here?” I rubbed firmly against the ridge of his prostate, watching his cock jerk against his stomach, leaking slick precum. His reaction fueled my arousal, my own dominance. “You like that, sweetheart? Like my fingers inside that tight ass?”

“Yes,” he hissed, pushing back against my hand, meeting the pressure. “God, your fingers… so much bigger… feels so fucking good.”

I worked him open methodically, carefully, wanting him ready, wanting him desperate for what was to come.

Added a third finger when he started writhing, whimpering my name.

All the while, I kept up a steady stream of filthy praise, my voice low and rough.

Told him how tight he felt, how good he looked spread out beneath me, how I was going to ruin him for anyone else.

How he was mine.

“Please,” he gasped, hips bucking against my hand. “Need your cock. Inside me. Need you to fuck me, Wyatt.” His eyes were wild, pleading. “Been waiting so fucking long. Please.”

I withdrew my fingers slowly, letting him feel the emptiness. His body clenched around nothing, a frustrated sound escaping his lips.

“How do you want it, Timmy?” I leaned closer, bracing my hands on either side of his head. Looking down at him, seeing the raw want etched on his face. “Want me to take you slow and sweet?” My voice dropped lower, turning rougher. “Or hard and rough, like you deserve?”

His answer came without a flicker of hesitation, eyes blazing. “Rough. Fuck me rough, Wyatt. Want to feel you for days.” His voice dropped to a desperate whisper. “Want everyone to know. Know I’ve been thoroughly fucked by the biggest cock in the county.”

His dirty talk, his complete surrender combined with that defiant possessiveness—it shattered the last vestiges of my control. Fire roared through my veins. I grabbed the lube again, slicking my thick length generously before positioning the head of my cock against his stretched, waiting entrance.

“Going to split you open on my cock,” I promised, my voice a low, guttural growl that came from somewhere primal. “Going to fuck you so hard you forget your own name. Going to make you mine.”

I pushed forward. Steady pressure. The tight ring of muscle resisted for only a heartbeat before giving way. The head of my cock breached him.

We both groaned, a raw sound ripped from our chests at the first contact, the first stretch. Despite his pleas for roughness, I went slowly at first, sinking into him inch by agonizing inch, letting him take all of me, giving his body time to adjust to my size. My thickness.

“More,” he demanded, legs wrapping tightly around my waist, heels digging into my back, pulling me deeper. “Give me all of it, Wyatt. Want to feel every fucking inch.”

I obliged. Sank down until I was fully seated, buried to the hilt, my balls pressed against him. The feeling… His tight, velvet heat gripping me. It nearly undid me right then and there. Perfect. Finally .

“So fucking tight,” I ground out, holding myself still for a beat, fighting for control, savoring the sensation of being completely sheathed inside him. “Like you were made to take my cock.”

His eyes, glazed with pleasure and maybe tears, locked with mine. “Move, Wyatt,” he begged, voice strained. “Fuck me. Fuck me like you’ve been thinking about all these years.”

That was all the permission I needed. I pulled back slowly, deliberately, almost all the way out, then drove forward with a force that slammed him back against the mattress, shaking the heavy oak bed frame.

His cry was pure pleasure this time, sharp and high, spurring me on.

I found a rhythm. Hard. Fast. Punishing. Each thrust deeper than the last.

“This what you wanted?” I growled, hands gripping his hipbones, thumbs digging in, sure to leave marks. My mark. “My cock stretching that tight hole? Filling you up? Fucking into you hard enough to feel it tomorrow?”

“Yes!” he gasped out, meeting each thrust with a desperate upward buck of his hips. His body strained beneath me. “Harder Wyatt. Deeper. Want to feel you everywhere!”

I shifted my weight, hooking one of his legs over my shoulder, then the other. The new angle drove me deeper, hitting that sweet spot inside him with unerring accuracy. His cock, untouched, bounced against his slick stomach, leaking onto his abs.

“Look at that pretty cock,” I wrapped my free hand around his shaft without breaking rhythm. “Slick and dripping all over yourself just from taking my dick.”

His whole body shuddered violently at the dual stimulation, a strangled sound tearing from his throat. “Oh fuck, Wyatt! Don’t stop! Gonna… gonna make me come…”

I stroked him in time with my relentless thrusts, squeezing just beneath the sensitive head the way I liked it myself. “That’s it, sweetheart. Come for me. Want to feel that tight ass milk every last drop out of me.”

His breathing turned ragged, short, sharp gasps. His body tensed around me, gripping me tighter with every frantic beat of his heart. “Fuck… I’m close. So close…” He looked up at me, eyes pleading, desperate. “Tell me, tell me I’m yours. Again.”

The raw, possessive request slammed into me, pushing me right to the precipice. “You’re mine, Timmy,” I growled, the words ripped from my soul as I drove into him with renewed force. “Always fucking been mine. Taking my cock so perfectly. Been waiting years to claim this ass.”

That was all it took. With a hoarse cry that shattered into my name, he came undone. His cock pulsed hot and heavy in my grip, thick ropes of pearly white painting his chest and stomach. The intense clenching of his inner muscles around me, milking me, pulling at me, shattered my control.

My orgasm crashed over me, forceful and overwhelming, before I was ready.

“Fuck! Timmy!” I roared as pleasure ripped through me in wave after unstoppable wave. My hips bucked, thrusting deeper, faster, emptying myself into him, burying myself as deep inside his heat as I could possibly go. His name a declaration on my lips.

I collapsed forward, shaking, catching myself on my forearms to avoid crushing him.

My breath came in harsh gasps. His body trembled beneath mine.

For several long moments, the only sounds were our ragged breathing, the frantic pounding of our hearts against each other, the faint creak of the bedsprings settling.

When I finally found the strength, the will, to move, I withdrew slowly, carefully. Both of us hissed slightly at the separation, the sudden emptiness. I rolled off him, pulling him with me so he landed half on my chest. His head rested in the curve of my shoulder, his breath warm against my skin.

“That was…” he started, then trailed off, unable to find the words.

“Yeah.” My voice was still rough. I understood. There weren’t words big enough. “It was.”

I hugged him tightly against my side. He fit perfectly there, his smaller frame nestled against my larger one, his head tucked under my chin. Felt right. Like a missing piece clicking into place.

We lay in silence for a while, comfortable, the weight of everything settling around us. The air felt different. Charged. Changed.

“You know,” Timmy said finally, his voice quiet, thoughtful, breaking the stillness. “This isn’t quite how I imagined it going.”