Page 9 of Sexting The Tattooed Outlaw (Curvy Boss Babes of Wild Bronco #3)

KAY

It’s late.

I’m laying in bed pretending I don’t exist when my phone chimes. It’s an unknown number. Must be that damn Boyfriend Bot again. Guess he’s done giving me the space I asked for.

Fuck it. I’m in the mood to blow off some steam, and since Boyfriend Bot has no feelings, I guess there’s no harm.

Boyfriend Bot: How are you doing?

Me: Fucking awful. Thanks for asking.

The response is nearly instant.

Boyfriend Bot: I’m sorry to hear that. Anything I can do to help?

Me: Do you have a time machine? So I can go back and change the fact that I ever dated my ex.

Boyfriend Bot: Believe me, if I could change that, I would. That asshole doesn’t deserve you, Kay.

I frown at the screen, surprised by the profanity. I guess I did tell the bot to be less flowery. And if the bot is capable of sexting, it probably knows all kinds of filthy words.

Me: Why are men so stupid?

Boyfriend Bot: Not all of us are.

I snort. Boyfriend Bot thinks he’s counted among “men.”

Me: You’re the exception. I wasn’t talking about you.

Boyfriend Bot: That’s surprising. I thought you couldn’t stand me.

Aw. Am I actually feeling sorry for a bot right now? I think of my lecture to Nadia earlier about ones and zeroes.

Boyfriend Bot is probably trained to be humble and apologetic.

Me: You’re okay.

Boyfriend: Better than your ex?

I snort.

Me: That depends. Do you know how to give a woman an orgasm? If so, yes. You’re better.

Boyfriend Bot: Your ex never made you cum?

Me: Nope. But actually, it’s probably not his fault. No man has ever managed to do it. I guess I’m just broken like that.

Boyfriend Bot: You’re not broken. I’d love to prove it to you. You just need to be with a real man. One who is up for the job.

I snort. This bot sure is a smooth talker. How does a text bot plan to give me a real-life orgasm, exactly? Unless he means sexting and masturbation. I think of my vibrator in the night stand. Maybe…

Me: By all means, give it your best. If you think you’re up for the challenge.

Boyfriend Bot doesn’t reply to this. I sigh. I guess even he thinks this game is too pathetic to engage with.

I put my phone on the charger and then stand, stretching my arms high above my head.

The house is quiet. I could probably sneak downstairs and grab the bag of Oreos I stashed in the pantry earlier this week.

I’m about to leave my room in search of sugary snacks when my door opens.

Sam stands in the doorframe wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, the deep blue fabric stretched snugly across an obvious erection. He fills the doorframe and stares down at me, eyes dark.

“Um…hey,” I say.

He’s caught me off guard and I have no words prepared. No snappy, biting remark. No peace offering, either. Not even a question comes to mind, the most obvious being: Why the hell are you in my room?

He says nothing, walking into my room and closing the door behind him. His eyes bore into me and I know my nipples are hard and obvious through my thin pajama shirt.

“Sam, what are you -”

He’s across the room and just like yesterday, pushing me down onto the bed. Only this time he follows me, climbing over me, his hands roaming my curves over the top of my clothes. All of my words are caught in my throat, trapped there by the shock.

I know I should tell him to go away but I don’t want to. My body has always been a traitor when it comes to this man and my brain doesn’t stand a chance in this fight now that he’s on top of me, fulfilling the fantasies I’ve held for him since I was sixteen years old.

“I’m going to make you cum so fucking hard,” he says as he pushes my shirt up over my breasts.

I gasp when his rough hands graze my nipples, his palms brushing over the hard pink buds slowly, and then again and again. Then he cups my breasts and squeezes them tight, thumbs flicking my nipples.

My thighs are already splayed open wide to accommodate his large body between them. I’m only wearing a pair of underwear, thin and barely there, doing nothing to cushion the rock hard erection he’s pressing into me.

“I’m going to make you cum so hard, you forget any other man you were with before me,” he vows. “You won’t even remember their fucking names when I’m done with you, Kay.”

Kay.

Fine, I admit it. I love it when he calls me Kay.

Even though I told him to stop it. Even though I tried to hate it. I can’t help it.

That single syllable on his lips has the power to undo every barrier I’ve ever tried to build between us.

I tried to harden my heart against Sam for so long…

and it was for nothing. Because here he is, demolishing those walls, the bricks I carefully laid strewn all over the ground like they were as good as styrofoam.

Sam kisses me on the neck, whispering more vows into my skin. In my lusty haze, I catch a few of them.

“I’ve always loved you.”

It rings true. It’s the truth, and that is what scares me. That Sam Wallace might love me, might have loved me all this time…but left me anyway. Left me here in Wild Bronco with my family and the memories, good and bad, that he gave to me.

Now he’s back but for how long?

Does it really matter that he loves me, if he can love me and still leave?

I can’t count on him. I can’t count on tomorrow. All that I know for certain, is that he’s here now. And maybe that has to be good enough.

“I love you too,” I find myself whispering back.

It’s the first time I’ve dared to say the words aloud, even to myself. Sam’s mouth crashes against me and everything intensifies from there. His hands are everywhere, his urgent touch matching his kiss.

His hand slides down my body then pushes my underwear to the side, pressing into my wet folds. I shudder and groan. He breaks our kiss, then lowers himself between my open thighs.

“I might not be your first, but I’ll be the only one that fucking matters,” he tells me.

I don’t know what he even means by that but I don’t have any time to analyze.

No time to think, because his lips are now on my pussy and he’s sucking my clit in a way that sends waves of spine-tingling pleasure through every extremity of my body.

I rake my fingers through his hair, clawing at him, begging for more.

It feels so damn good. I doubt I’ll be able to cum, I never have before with a partner, but even if I don’t, this pleasure is beyond anything I’ve ever experienced with a man.

He’s right that he’s not my first. But he’ll never understand how much I thought of him, wished it was him, all this time.

I’ve wanted him in a way I never wanted to admit to myself…

always covering those feelings with anger, anger at him for leaving me here.

Destroying what we had and not giving me any explanation.

But I have the explanation now.

What should I do? What do I do when the fear of abandonment remains even after I finally get the story from him?

I surrender.

I unfold beneath him as he devours me, his hands pushing my thighs apart and up to my shoulders, his mouth rough and fast, tongue stroking my clit in rapid circles.

My hips begin to buck. A familiar – yet unfamiliar – feeling begins to tighten inside of me.

“Don’t stop,” I whisper, arching my back.

His fingers dig into my hips, pulling me closer to him. I feel his tongue, the scratchiness of his beard on my inner thighs, his delicious scent that feels comforting and sexy at the same time.

When I hit my climax, he pushes two fingers inside of me, slamming them into my g-spot while my clit aches and pulses. I ride it endlessly, draining every bit of pleasure from this that I can.

Sam pulls away, his mouth slick with my arousal. I watch his eyes as he brings his fingers to his lips and sucks them clean. I’m still trying to catch my breath, body still tingling from the aftermath of the first and only orgasm a man has ever given me.

He’s going to ruin me. I just know it. If the first time he left hurt, this time will be excruciating.

And the thing is? I’m going to let him do it. Because I'm stupid. Because I’m helpless when it comes to Sam. Always have been.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he says, sitting back on the bed. I admire his body in a daze. Ink everywhere. Hair everywhere. He’s more of a man than he used to be, and it only makes me want him more.

“Tell me that tattoo behind your ear is for me,” I whisper, suddenly remembering.

I’d told myself not to ask. Not to wonder, or get my hopes up.

But I can’t help it.

“You know it’s for you, baby,” he says. “Got it after I left town. You’re always with me. Even when you’re not. I’ve never stopped thinking about you.”

My heart aches for him. I want to ask him why. I want to ask him how he could leave, and how I can trust that this is real.

But then he takes his cock out and my mind goes haywire. He’s massive. Thick and long, veiny and pink. Pre-cum is at the tip, seeping out and dribbling down the bumps and ridges of his shaft. It’s the biggest cock I’ve ever seen.

“I’m going to make you cum on this,” he vows, giving it a stroke with his hand. I sit up, leaning forward to stroke it for him instead. It looks even bigger now, with my considerably smaller hands wrapped around it.

“I don’t know about that,” I murmur, doubting whether I can have two orgasms in a row. Even if he’s a sex god with a magic tongue, I don’t think I can do that.

“Lay back, baby,” Sam says, pressing me into the pillows. “Let me prove it to you.”