Page 36 of The Tex Hex (Bitches With Stitches #3)

When I bottom out and can feel his hairy thighs beneath my ass, I hold him inside of me without moving, and I can feel his dick pulse like it has a heartbeat.

With a wicked smile, I give him one small squeeze, and he makes a strangled sound.

So, of course, I do it again. Tighter this time, gripping his shaft with my inner walls.

Mandy turns pleading eyes on me, begging me to move.

You could bake a cake in the time it takes me to rise up his dick to the tip. And I give it another squeeze, feeling his fingers gouge into my hips.

“Fucking quit that or I’ll come,” he hisses between clenched teeth.

His tight expression says he’s barely hanging on, and that just makes me want to keep teasing him. How far can I push the big guy before he breaks?

Dipping my head, I lick his lips, and he chases my mouth, wanting more, but I pull back. Mandy‘s eyes drop to my mouth, and I lick my lips, putting on a show.

This is so much fun. Teasing him, driving him out of his mind. I had no idea sex could be so much fun.

Only with Mandy, I guess.

Increasing my pace just a fraction, I slide down and back up, again and again, clenching the muscles in my ass to keep my grip on his dick tight.

Mandy babbles incoherently, whispers I’m not meant to hear, soft sighs, and gravelly moans.

Beautiful sounds that I’ve dreamt of hearing from him for months.

Proof that this man, who I think the world of, needs me. Worships me. Values me.

Not because I’m fucking myself on his dick, but because I gave him my trust and my love, and that means something to him—it means everything .

Sliding back down to his thick base, I hold myself still again and repeat the movement, fluttering my hole around his girth until he makes those noises again.

“Tex,” he breathes, “you’re blowing my mind.”

“I’m trying to blow something else.” Pressing my lips to his, I search out his tongue and suck it into my mouth, taking slow, soft pulls on it. My hips begin to move again, faster now, but still keeping a tight grip on him.

Mandy snakes his arms around my back and squeezes me so tight that the air almost leaves my body.

He takes over, stealing control from me, because he’s at his breaking point.

He thrusts his cock up into me, forcefully fucking me with savage, brutal thrusts—short and quick.

The kind that are designed to make you come fast.

And he does. Mandy buries his face in my neck and pants my name again and again, like a mantra, or a prayer—breathless, reverent, unraveling all over me.

“I’m close,” I hiss, barely holding on. “Don’t stop.”

His hips keep working, even though I know he’s already come. Even though he’s trembling, too sensitive, riding the edge of too much. It costs him. I can feel it in the way he clenches his jaw, the little stutter in his breath, but he doesn’t stop. Not until I break open in his hands.

I dig my nails into his shoulders and scream.

Everything inside me spills out in one long, shuddering rush, and all he does is hold me tighter, anchoring me while I fall apart.

Nobody touched my dick.

All I needed was his.

That’s a first for me. But with Mandy, everything is a first.

We stay tangled in each other. His chest rises and falls against mine, still fast but starting to slow.

I can feel the sweat cooling on our skin, the slick between us going tacky.

My legs are starting to cramp, but I don’t want to move, and Mandy doesn’t let go.

Doesn’t ease back or pull away like it’s over.

He stays.

His mouth presses into the curve of my shoulder, not quite a kiss, just a resting place. Rain still drums against the window. Wind rattles the glass. The only other sound is our breath, moving in rhythm, syncing up again.

I run my hand through his hair, tracing the edge of his ear.

“You okay?” I whisper.

He nods, cheek brushing my collarbone. Then, after a moment, “Yeah. You?”

“I was supposed to be rewriting your list of best sex partners, putting my name at the top, but you’re the one who wrote my list instead.”

Mandy chuckles, the sound deep and rich. “I don’t have a list like that, but if I did, your name would definitely be at the top.”

“Yeah, well,” I tease, “mine was a very short list, and since yours is the only name on it, it’s obviously at the top.”

Eventually, he peels back just enough to meet my eyes. His face is flushed, his hair damp at the temples. There’s something bare in his expression, even now, like he’s waiting to see if I’ll recoil or say that I regret it.

All I can do is convince him with kisses and my touch, because words are just words, and he’s heard them before. My lips land softly on his, no tongue, no passion, just a promise that there'll be more nights like this.

“Come on,” I say, brushing his nose with mine. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

He follows me to the bathroom, and we step into the shower together.

The water’s barely warm, just the right temperature for his sensitive skin.

I wash him first with gentle hands, trailing the soapy lather down his arms, his stomach, the curve of his back.

He leans into every touch like he doesn’t need words anymore to say thank you .

Mandy takes the soap from me. He washes me the same way, quiet, focused, like every part of me matters. Like I’m something he wants to take care of.

When we step out and towel off, he hands me one of his old T-shirts and a pair of sweats that barely fit, even though I have a drawer full of my own clothes here. He just wants to see me in something of his, and that means more to me than anything.

We climb into bed, and he pulls the blanket up over both of us. His arm drapes over my stomach, fingertips splayed like he’s still memorizing the shape of me. His breath evens out against my shoulder, warm and slow. He’s so close. So at peace.

And I hate this part.

I hate how I’m about to ruin the perfect ending to a perfect night. Because in a few minutes, I’ve got to peel myself out of his bed, put my clothes back on, and slip out into the rain to make curfew at Serenity House.

I’ll leave the sheets cold.

I’ll leave him cold.

But the clock’s ticking now. I feel it in my chest like pressure, tightening with every second I lie here pretending I’m allowed to stay.

I turn my face into his neck and breathe him in one more time, and hold still, letting myself pretend a little longer.

Just until I have to go.