Page 35 of The Tex Hex (Bitches With Stitches #3)

TEX

The storm’s been rolling since sundown.

Rain taps against the windows like it wants in. Mandy’s got every lamp off except the one by the couch, and the room glows with a soft golden light. He’s dressed in sweatpants and an old T-shirt, and I’m pleasantly surprised that it’s short-sleeved instead of one of his long-sleeved Henleys.

He hasn’t said much since dinner, but his eyes don’t leave mine.

The way he looks at me tonight is different, like something’s been decided.

Mandy sits beside me on the couch, close enough that our knees are brushing. His hand rests on my thigh, not heavy or possessive, just there, warm through the tight denim.

I glance over, and his mouth lifts slightly. Damn, he’s a sexy motherfucker. He has no idea.

“You’re not into this movie, are you?” He sounds disappointed, and I rush to reassure him.

“It’s not bad.” I couldn’t give two fucks about the mafia movie on the screen, I’m more interested in cozying up with my big bear and leeching his incredible warmth into my body.

“Maybe I should have made other plans for us tonight.”

His voice rings with indecision and doubt, and my heart twists. Mandy hates going out, but he would drag his reluctant ass through the door most nights, for me.

“Is there something else you’d rather do?” Mandy asks.

“Might sound dumb,” I say, hooking my leg over his thick thigh. “But maybe making out for a few minutes would help us figure things out.”

His laugh warms my chest. “You think?” Mandy’s fingers dig into my thigh and my dick takes notice of his touch, so close to the prize.

Our mouths meet in the middle, unhurried.

Lips parting, pressing, pulling back just enough to start again.

His hands cup my jaw, rough palms, steady touch.

He tastes like ginger ale, and I suckle his tongue, stealing his flavor.

Mandy surprises me, hauling me over his lap.

I straddle his legs with a giggle and stare into his dark, hungry eyes.

“This is exactly what I wanted to do tonight,” I purr in a flirty voice.

His laugh sounds easier now, more self-assured. He leans in, forehead touching mine. “Your voice is my favorite sound.”

Fucking fuck. How does he do that? Turn my insides to mush with those simple words? My cheeks warm from his compliment.

“Then let me feed you words.” My lips caress his ear as I whisper, “Your body is my favorite thing. Or maybe it’s your smile.

” I feel the shiver that runs through his big body.

“I’ll have to see both again to decide.” My hands reach for his shirt, and Mandy doesn’t stop me from tugging it up.

I plant soft kisses across his chest. The dark hair tickles my lips.

“So big and strong, hard in some places,” I emphasis by grinding my ass against his erection, “and soft in others.” I press a kiss to his lips, right over his half-healed scar.

He wraps his arms tightly around me and pulls me closer, swallowing my kiss and begging for more. He lets me touch him slowly, deliberately—every inch offered, nothing hidden. It’s a quiet trust and a huge step forward.

Mandy kisses me deeper, sliding his tongue with mine and holding nothing back. His breath catches just a little when my hands span his ribs, fingers brushing old grafts, but he doesn’t flinch. His skin absorbs my touch, allowing it to heal him.

I can barely hear his voice above the rain. “Sometimes I think… if you could see what I see, you’d realize how hard it is to love me like this.”

A long breath leaves me before I even realize I’m holding it. My hands still on his skin.

“That’s the thing,” I murmur. “I do see. And I still want every part of you.”

Mandy closes his eyes like he wants to believe me, and lets me kiss him again. We undress each other without hurry, no rush, no pulling, just peeling away what’s in the way of closeness. He tugs my shirt off first, eyes lingering on my chest like he’s in awe.

Seriously, what this man does for my ego.

My pants come next, then his, until we’re pressed together skin to skin, nothing separating breath from breath.

The rain deepens outside, tapping against the glass in a soothing rhythm. The sound and the darkness make the world feel smaller, as if we’re the only two people left.

Mandy slides his hands under my ass and sits forward. “Should we move to the bedroom?”

“I kinda like it right here. Like this.” My hips roll over his hard length, and he sucks in a sharp breath that echoes in the quiet.

I move again, slow and deliberate, feeling him press back against me. The desire between us sparks hotter, pulling me closer to the edge of what I need and what I want to give him.

I lean down until our foreheads touch, my breath mingling with his. “I’m going to ride you right here. I’m going to stare into your eyes while I do it. And when I come…” My lips brush the corner of his mouth as I speak, “…I want you to swallow your name when it leaves my lips.”

His groan vibrates through me, and his hands flex against my skin.

He doesn’t answer with words—he doesn’t need to.

His body speaks for him, pushing up into me as his lips capture mine in a kiss that’s deep enough to pull us both under.

Mandy makes a tortured sound like he’s torn between control and collapse, and it makes my pulse thunder in my ears.

There’s no teasing in this. No games. Just two men who need each other coming together without shame, without fear. Just trust.

“Stay right there while I grab the lube,” I order, climbing off his lap with great reluctance. “When I come back, I better see you stroking that big thick cock and getting it primed for me.”

It’s primed enough to split me in half, but the sight of his big, scarred hand working his perfect dick will be hotter than sin. Something to add to my sparkly spank bank for later.

Practically skipping from the room, I run to retrieve the bottle from his bedroom, hoping to God his eyes are on my pert little ass. When I return moments later, Mandy has his dick in hand, his eyes hungry and hot as he watches me approach, and yeah, it’s hotter than I imagined it would be.

If he could see what I see, he would never doubt himself again.

Uncapping the lid, I kneel between his legs, and he holds his hand out.

The slippery liquid drizzles out of the bottle like honey, pooling in his palm.

And then I turn, on my hands and knees, presenting him with my ass.

He makes that sound again, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, as if he’s not quite sure this is reality. I’ll never tire of hearing that sound.

Slick fingers trace the crease of my ass, sliding between my cheeks to tickle over my hole. Lightly, Mandy presses his fingertip against the tight pucker, and I push back, forcing it inside of me.

He groans again, sitting forward. “So tight and hot,” he murmurs, more to himself than me. “You want me to open you up? Or do you want to fuck my fingers?”

His voice is rough around the edges. Christ, I had no idea my man could talk so dirty!

Instead of answering with words, I rock against his fingers, taking him up to the knuckle before he slides a second one in my channel.

The stretch is good. Familiar. A burn that settles deep and warm as I take him all the way.

The way he gasps my name lights me up inside. I would do anything for this man. Be anything for this man. Not because having my own identity isn’t important to me, but because there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to bring him the smallest fraction of satisfaction for all that he’s given me in return.

His third finger makes my ass burn like it’s on fire, but the more he glides them in and out of my body, the easier it feels to take him.

He drags his other hand down my spine as if appreciating the curve of my back, or the view, maybe.

So I put a little extra arch into it for his benefit.

There’s nothing I love more than being appreciated, especially by Mandy.

It sounds dumb as hell, which is why I would never say it out loud, but I almost wish I had saved myself for him. If I had known I would find a love like this someday, it would have been worth all those lonely, horny nights.

Yet I’d still have been raped. Still have been coerced under pressure and blackmailed.

And according to Mandy, all of those tragic events made me who I am today, a man who knows pain and darkness, humility and shame.

A man worthy of Mandy’s love. A man who can understand some of what he’s been through, enough to know how incredibly brave he is.

A man who can appreciate the strength it takes to wake up every day and lace up your boots, even when you want to stay hidden beneath the covers.

Glancing over my shoulder, I catch a glimpse of his face drawn tight with pleasure.

He’s stroking his cock with one hand as he fingers me with the other.

Mandy stares at my ass like he doesn’t want to miss a single second.

Like this is church and I’m the altar. When I clench around him and the pleasure builds fast behind my ribs, I welcome the rush.

I want him to see it all. Hear it. Want him to feel what he does to me.

I moan his name like a confession, and he breaks with a ragged groan. “Please, ride me. I can’t take anymore.”

He’s gonna take a whole lot more before we’re both finished.

I crawl up his lap to straddle his thighs, his hard cock splitting the seam of my ass. Reaching between us, I line us up, dragging him against me, hot and smooth and perfect. Then I lower onto him and his eyes roll back in his head, all the breath leaving his chest in a rush.

It’s the slowest slide I’ve ever slid. I imagine every vein and ripple in his shaft swallowed slowly by my tight rim. The fat head of his cock brushes against my gland, making my toes curl, and I have to remind myself to go slow.

I want to make this good for him. The best he’s ever had.