Page 39 of The County Line (Whitewood Creek Farm #2)

I let my hand slide between us, finding her slick clit. My thumb brushes across that sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing slow, firm circles that have her gasping and moaning above me. Her head falls back, her body rocks as she rides me, her movements as intoxicating as the woman herself.

“That’s it, Molly,” I rasp, my voice breaking under the weight of everything that I’m feeling. “Help me, baby. Help me feel something.”

The words tear out of me, raw and desperate.

My chest tightens, the pressure of years of pain, anger, and regret are threatening to crush me.

It’s all there—the fear of living every day in prison wondering if it was my last, the sting of betrayal that Maverick never visited, the hollow ache of my twin sister’s absence, the shame of who I was and what I had to do to survive, and the desperate, soul-deep desire for this woman that I love.

She leans forward, her hands braced on my chest as she moves, her rhythm unrelenting, pulling me deeper into her with every lift of her hips. Her name falls from my lips like a prayer, my hands grip her thighs, desperate to hold onto the one thing that’s grounding me in this moment. Her.

“Use me,” I beg, my voice rough with emotion. “Take it from me, all of it. Everything I’ve been carrying, everything I’ve been burying. Use that tight cunt to pull it out of me.”

Her body responds like it knows what I need, moving faster, harder, until I’m dizzy with the sensation.

She leans back slightly, her hands sliding to my knees behind her as her hips roll in a wave-like motion.

The sight of her taking me, her pussy spread around my cock, body fitting mine so perfectly, is too much.

I glance between us, watching as my cock disappears into her over and over, swallowed by her slick heat. And when she rolls her hips again, reaches behind her ass and cups my balls so softly, something inside me shifts, breaking open, releasing everything I’ve been holding back.

“That’s it,” I groan, my fingers pressing harder against her clit. “You’re taking me so good, Molly. Fuck, you’re so good. You’re too good for me. You’re too precious, too perfect. You’re fucking everything .”

Her moans grow louder, and I can feel her tightening around me, pulling me closer to the edge.

She’s giving me everything, and I know that I want to give her more than just this.

I want to give her everything I am, everything I’ve been too scared to believe I could offer. Fuck, I want a life with her.

I reach up just as I feel something warm fall onto my cheek.

Is that? Are these...tears?

I blink back the sting in my eyes, trying to hold it all in, but her tight, hot pussy pulls me deeper into feeling. Every damn emotion: desire, protectiveness, joy, rage, love, need . It all crashes into me, wave after relentless wave.

I want her in every way that a man can want a woman.

I want to fuck her so hard she can’t walk straight tomorrow and thinks about me every time she moves.

I want to marry her. I want to see her in the house I’m building, barefoot in the yard with kids running wild and a baby giggling in a walker on the porch.

I want to see her round and glowing, carrying my child.

I want to keep her. Forever.

My orgasm builds deep within me, white-hot, and unstoppable, coiling tighter and tighter until my muscles lock, my jaw clenches, and my vision blurs. I feel like a champagne bottle shaken to its breaking point, ready to burst inside her pussy.

“Yes, Colt,” she moans, her voice trembling with pleasure. “I’m going to come.”

“Come for me, baby,” I growl, my voice rough and raw. “Squeeze my cock, Molly. Show me you feel this too. Show me that I’m not alone.”

Her body obeys, clenching down on me as she shatters.

The deep, rhythmic contractions of her orgasm pull at me, dragging my release from deep within, yanking it out like a tidal wave I couldn’t stop even if I tried.

I’m coming hard, harder than I have in my entire life, spilling into her with a force that leaves me gasping, my chest heaving, my throat tight.

More tears spill from my eyes before I can stop them, silent but heavy.

She rides me through it all, her hands splayed across my chest, her breath hot against my skin.

She doesn’t say anything about the tears, doesn’t call attention to them—just lets me be.

She’s there, steady, unshakable, letting me feel without shame.

When she finally stills, she rests her head against my chest, her soft breaths tickling my skin. She lifts her head after a few minutes and presses a gentle kiss to my lips, my cock still buried deep inside her, our combined mess warm and sticky between us.

“Do you want me to get off?” she whispers.

But I shake my head, flipping us so she’s lying back against the bed.

I leave her there, her body stretched out and glowing, and move to the tiny RV bathroom.

The cool water I splash on my face shocks me back to the moment, and when I glance up at myself in the mirror, something’s different.

The darkness that’s shadowed my eyes for years feels lighter.

The man staring back at me looks like he might know how to smile again.

That’s Molly.

She’s the reason for this shift. And if she can do that with one night, what more can she do?

I grab a damp cloth and return to her, finding her exactly where I left her—her thighs sticky, the sheets a mess. She looks at me and chuckles softly, brushing her damp hair away from her flushed face.

“These sheets are doomed,” she says. She’s so damn beautiful it makes my chest ache.

I kneel beside her, glancing at the mess that’s my cum slipping from her body. I scoop some of it up with my fingers and hold it out to her. Her eyes widen, but her lips part willingly, and she takes it, her tongue swirling around my fingers as she cleans them off.

The sight has my cock twitching again. I chuckle darkly and push the rest of the mess back inside her pussy, my fingers burying it deep with a satisfying squelch.

“You do that,” she murmurs, her voice laced with heat while I continue to pump my fingers there, “and I might be ready for round two already.”

Her teasing smile doesn’t hide the hunger in her eyes. It’s been almost two decades since we first met, a decade apart, five years of me not feeling a damn thing, and now all I can think about is her. All I want is her again. And again.

Forever.

“Why wait?” I growl, climbing back onto the bed and settling between her legs.

In one smooth thrust I’m pressing back inside of her, her body welcoming me like she was made for me. She gasps, her back arching off the bed as her hands grip my hips, ankles crossing behind my back, pulling me deeper.

Hell, there’s something to be said about feeling my cum already inside her pussy while I’m fucking her.

She’s still hot. Still wet. Still mine.

Always mine.