Page 22 of Saddles and Snowstorms (Sagebrush Cowboys #4)
“You’re beautiful,” I murmured, the words slipping out before I could stop them .
His eyes flew open, surprise flickering across his face before it melted into something warmer. He leaned down to kiss me, his lips soft against mine.
“So are you,” he whispered against my mouth. “Even with that scruffy jaw and your grumpy fuckin’ face.”
I chuckled, the sound turning into a groan as he reached between us to wrap his slick hand around my cock. He stroked me firmly, spreading the lube, and I nearly bucked him off my lap.
“Easy there, cowboy,” he teased, positioning himself above me.
Our eyes locked as he slowly lowered himself onto my cock. The tight heat of him enveloped me inch by inch, and I had to grip his thighs hard enough to bruise to keep from thrusting up into him.
“Jesus Christ,” I growled, watching his face as he took me all the way in. His mouth fell open in a silent gasp, eyes half-lidded and dark with pleasure.
“You okay?” I managed to ask, every muscle in my body straining with the effort to stay still.
Rowan nodded, adjusting to the feel of me inside him. “More than okay,” he breathed, experimentally rolling his hips. The movement sent shockwaves of delight through me, and I couldn’t help the deep moan that escaped my throat.
“God, Brooks,” he sighed, placing his hands on my chest for leverage. “You feel so fucking good.”
He began to move then, lifting himself up slowly before sinking back down.
Each movement was deliberate, controlled, like he was savoring every sensation.
I watched him through hooded eyes, mesmerized by the sight of him taking his pleasure from my body.
His cock bounced against my stomach with each rise and fall, leaving shining trails of pre-cum on my skin.
“That’s it,” I encouraged, my voice rougher than usual. I gripped his hips, guiding his movements. “Take what you need.”
Rowan’s pace quickened, his breathing growing ragged.
The muscles in his thighs flexed with each motion, and I couldn’t resist running my hands over them, feeling them work beneath my palms. His head fell back, exposing the long line of his throat, and I had the overwhelming urge to mark him there, to claim him in some primal way.
“Fuck,” he gasped as I thrust up to meet him, hitting something deep inside that made his whole body shudder. “Right there, Brooks. Don’t stop.”
I did it again, angling my hips to hit that same spot. The sound he made—half-moan, half-whimper—sent fire racing through my veins. I’d never been with someone so responsive, so unashamed in their pleasure. It was intoxicating.
“Look at me,” I commanded, surprising myself with the authority in my voice. Rowan’s eyes snapped open, locking with mine as he continued to ride me. The connection was electric, intimate in a way I hadn’t expected. “I want to see your face when you cum.”
His rhythm faltered for a moment, his breath catching. “Fuck, Brooks,” he panted, a flush spreading across his chest and up his neck. “Keep talking like that and it’s gonna happen sooner than later.”
I smirked, feeling bold in a way I never had before. With one hand still on his hip, I wrapped the other around his cock, giving it a firm stroke from base to tip. The noise he made was almost inhuman—a deep, guttural sound that made my own cock throb inside him.
“That’s it,” I encouraged, matching the rhythm of my hand to his movements. “Let me see how good I make you feel.”
Rowan’s pace became more frantic, his thighs trembling against mine. The morning light caught the sweat on his skin, making him glow like something otherworldly. I stroked him faster, twisting my wrist on the upstroke just to hear that catch in his breath.
“I’m close,” he warned, his voice breaking. His movements grew erratic, desperate. “God, Brooks—I’m so close.”
I could feel myself approaching the edge too, heat building at the base of my spine. But I was determined to see him fall apart first. I wanted to watch this city boy come undone on my cock, wanted to hear my name on his lips when he did.
“Come on, Rowan,” I urged, my voice a rough whisper. I thrust up harder, hitting that spot inside him that made his whole body jerk. “Let go for me.”
His eyes locked with mine, wide and vulnerable.
For a moment, it felt like he was seeing straight through me, past all my carefully constructed walls.
Then his back arched as he cried out, his release painting hot stripes across my chest and stomach.
The sight of him—head thrown back, lips parted, utterly lost in pleasure—pushed me over the edge.
I gripped his hips as I thrust up one final time, burying myself deep inside him as I came with a growl that tore from somewhere deep within me.
“Rowan,” I gasped, his name a prayer on my lips as waves of pleasure crashed through me.
He collapsed forward onto my chest, heedless of the mess between us, his breath coming in ragged pants against my neck. I wrapped my arms around him instinctively, holding him close as we both trembled through the aftershocks.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke. The only sounds were our gradually slowing breaths and the soft crackle of the fireplace in the other room. Outside, snow continued to fall, insulating us from the rest of the world. In here, time seemed suspended, reality held at bay for a little longer.
Finally, Rowan shifted, pressing a lazy kiss to my collarbone. “Well,” he murmured, voice husky and satisfied, “that’s one way to burn time while we’re snowed in.”
I nodded, wrapping my arms over his back and pulling him tight against me.
There were no words to describe how I felt.
Well, maybe thankful was a good place to start.
But the fear bubbling away in the back of my mind knowing that this would all soon come to an end remained unspoken.
Pushing it away, I leaned into him, trying to enjoy it while I could.