Page 29 of The Tex Hex (Bitches With Stitches #3)

My hands return to his ass and I tug him over my legs.

He grinds slowly into my lap as he kisses me like the world has narrowed down to just this bed, just this room, just us.

Every part of him is warm, alive, and pressed close.

I’d give anything—almost anything—to feel his skin against mine, but the thought of taking off my shirt makes my dick threaten to shrink.

When he pulls back to breathe, his eyes are dark blue and glassy with want. “Still good?” he asks.

“Better than good,” I whisper. “You’re making me forget I ever wanted to hide.” Almost.

That earns me a hungry smile. “That’s kind of my superpower.”

He leans in again, kissing my neck this time, open-mouthed and slow. His hands slip under my shirt, palms dragging up my stomach like he’s tasting me through his fingers. My breath stutters.

“I want this,” I tell him. “But…”

He pauses, resting his forehead to mine. “Talk to me.”

I hesitate. “Do we need to use condoms? Because I have an entire drawer full.”

Tex pulls back and meets my eyes. “I’m on PrEP.

And I’ve never done it without before. Not once.

Not since… since I had a choice.” His tone doesn’t waver, but there’s a softness there that pulls at me.

“I wanted this to mean something. I wanted the first time to be with someone who cares. You’re that someone, Mandy. ”

My throat tightens, but I nod. “It still means something, Tex, even with protection. Maybe it means more.”

“I get that, but… no. I’ve made up my mind. I want nothing keeping us apart, not even latex. Actually, just having the choice and being able to make that decision for myself is a bigger rush than the thought of going without it.”

Tex kisses me again, deeper. Hungrier. Like the decision unlocked something in him.

He reaches for the hem of my shirt, and I let him. Nothing keeping us apart. If he can be brave, so can I. He doesn’t stare, doesn’t flinch. Just touches me like I’m made of something worth worshiping.

When he rolls his hips into mine and pushes me lower, I stop him with a hand on his chest.

“Wait,” I murmur. “Are you comfortable… taking the lead?”

Tex grins, and it’s wicked. “Baby,” he says, already leaning down to kiss along my ribs, “I’m a natural power bottom. I was born to take the lead.”

I snort, then moan when he mouths my nipple. I arch into him instinctively, and he groans, “That’s it. That’s what I wanted.”

The tension starts to melt off my body, every touch from him loosening a thread. He slides down, peppering kisses along my stomach, fingers curling into my waistband. He tugs at my pants, and I lift my hips to help.

When he takes me in his hand, I gasp, my dick twitching in his palm.

“Tex,” I whisper, already breathless.

“Yeah, Big Guy?”

“I… I want to try something.”

His brow quirks, but he doesn’t stop. “You tell me what you need.”

“I want to be on top.”

His breath catches. His hand tightens just a little, then eases off. “Fuck yes,” he says, voice rough. “Take what you want.”

I flip us with slow, careful movements, straddling his hips and running my hands down his chest. He’s all compacted muscle and smooth skin, panting up at me with flushed cheeks and lust-dark eyes.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I murmur, surprising even myself.

He groans. “Jesus. Say it again.”

I smile. “You’re beautiful.”

Tex grabs my face and kisses me like he’s starving. Like I just gave him everything he ever wanted. So I give him something else as I work his shorts down his smooth hips.

I crawl between his thighs, and he wraps his long, slender legs around my waist. Leaning down over his body, I press kisses to his flat stomach, gently nipping with my teeth. The words flow like spilled secrets over his skin.

“The first time I met you, I was thunderstruck. Completely tongue-tied. But the second time? I thought of you like a tiny, tightly wrapped little package of C4.”

He grins and bites his bottom lip. “Is this a sexy demolition tech compliment? Cause I’ve got a few about chicken wings I could tell you.”

“I’m serious,” I say, biting back my smile. “At first glance, you seem harmless enough. Quiet. Predictable. But beneath the wrapping?” My lips blaze a wet trail up his chest and I suck the skin over his heart until it bruises. “You’re explosive.”

I raise my head, locking my eyes with his. His lips part on a breath. “The first time I saw you,” I continue, voice quieter now, “the first time you touched me... my heart went boom .”

Tex winds his arms tightly around my shoulders and uses his leg lock on me to pull me up to his mouth.

We move together like we’ve done this a hundred times, even though it’s new.

Even though it’s terrifying. Every moan and gasp, every quiet word of praise from Tex, draws me out of my head and into the moment.

I’m dying to take him in my mouth and suck his load deep into my belly but my mouth still isn’t ready for that kind of stretching. So instead, I slip my hand between our bodies and wrap my fingers around his long, thin shaft. He gasps my name like a prayer, and I take his lips in a searing kiss.

Every thrust of his hips pushes his dick through my grasp, fucking my fist, back arched, eyes closed, like it’s too good, too much.

I fucking dreamed of this, night after night.

“Me too,” he breathes softly, and I realize I must have said that out loud.

I reach for the lube on my nightstand and fill my palm, letting my skin warm it up before I let it touch him. He hisses when my fingers tickle over his hole, like I burned him.

I get it. I’m burning alive, from the inside this time. The adrenaline, the lust, it’s spreading like wildfire through my veins, and I’m starting to sweat, like some overeager prom date getting laid for the first time.

When I sink my fingers inside him, he grips my hips, pants against my throat, and moans like he’s seconds away from dying. Of pleasure.

I move carefully at first, letting the rhythm build, and Tex meets me every time. His thrusts are wild, uncoordinated, needy. Then he stills. Tex looks up at me, eyes wide open, full of heat and something softer—trust.

He’s so damn beautiful it nearly undoes me. His hair’s a mess across the blanket, his lips swollen from our kissing, and his thighs frame me like they’ve always belonged there.

I grasp my cock, lining myself up. My breath is caught somewhere in my throat. My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my fingertips, in the base of my spine. I hold still for a moment, just watching him.

“You okay?”

Tex nods, biting his bottom lip. Then he smiles. “I’m better than okay. You’re not gonna break me, Big Guy.”

Still, I don’t move. My hands rest on his thighs, gently stroking, grounding both of us. The moment hangs suspended between us, taut with the kind of tension that demands reverence.

“This feels... big,” I murmur. “More than just...”

“It is,” Tex says, his voice a little breathless. “It’s not just sex. Not with you.”

I breathe in slow. “Meatloaf?”

He lifts a hand and cups my face, eyes locked on mine. “I’m not hungry for meatloaf. But I’m starved for your cock in me.”

I nod, a rough exhale slipping out of me. I lean in to kiss him, slow and deep and aching. One last reassurance before I move.

And then, finally, I press forward, gently, carefully, never breaking eye contact. Tex gasps, fingers clutching at my shoulders, and I still, just barely inside, giving him a moment to adjust. My whole body trembles from the restraint it takes not to bury myself in him right then and there.

He wraps his legs tighter around my waist and whispers, “It’s okay. I want this.”

Slow and steady, I push in further, feeling every inch of him open for me. Taking me in like he was made to.

My God, I’m home. Inside this man, I’m home.

I move slowly, still half-afraid I’ll wake up and find out this was some fever dream. But he’s warm around me, slick and tight and pulsing, and there’s no mistaking the realness of it. Of him. Of us.

Tex groans, his head tipping back, exposing the long column of his neck. I can’t help but lean down and press a kiss there, tasting sweat and salt and something like gratitude.

“You feel…” I trail off because no word comes close to this.

“Say it,” Tex murmurs, arching into me. “Tell me.”

“You feel like home,” I whisper.

That earns me a sound I don’t think I’ve ever heard from him—a soft, wrecked little gasp that slips into a moan as I start to move, slow and deep, letting the rhythm find us both.

He clutches me tighter. His fingers dig into my shoulder blades. “Fuck, Mandy...”

Every time I push in, it’s like a prayer. Every time I draw back, it’s with reluctance. Like I want to live inside him. Like I already do.

Tex lifts his hips just right, meeting me stroke for stroke. “Harder,” he breathes, and I give him what he asks for. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, wet and steady and rising in tempo.

But I don’t lose sight of him. I don’t get lost in my head, not with Tex looking up at me like I’m everything he’s ever wanted. He grounds me, even when I’m coming undone.

He pants beneath me, eyes half-lidded, mouth slack with pleasure. “Jesus,” he whispers. “You—God, Mandy, you’re so good at this.”

I grin. “Told you I’d worship you.” And I do, with my mouth, caressing every inch of his bare skin I can reach.

I pick up the pace, chasing the tension that’s been building in both of us since the moment he dropped the damn remote. “Ride me,” I hiss, pulling out of his tight heat.

I need to free him, need to see him move his hips and chase his pleasure on my cock. I sit back against the headboard, and Tex follows, straddling my thighs. His long torso extends for miles, with perfect, smooth skin that begs to be devoured.

He slides down on my shaft, stretching and filling himself with a gasp. When I shift my angle, he cries out, and I know I’ve found the spot that makes him see stars.

“Right there?” I ask, breath ragged.

“Yes,” he rasps. “Fuck, yes—don’t stop?—”