Page 40 of Wild Love, Cowboy (The Portree Cowboys #1)

Mia

Looking down at Grant on his knees for me, sends a rush of lust coursing through my body and straight to my core. I bite my lip, holding back a whimper. His eyes are dark, locked on mine and full of heat, before his gaze moves down and all his focus is pinned to the space between my thighs.

The second his mouth finds me, my head slams back against the tile with a thud.

A sound rips from my throat before I can stop it—sharp, needy, real.

He runs his tongue over my center—slow, deliberate, and a deep shudder courses through me.

My fingers find their way to his hair at their own accord and I tug him closer.

“Fuck, Mia,” he murmurs. “I've been dreaming about tasting you again,” his voice rough as he nips, bites and licks at my inner thigh.

His large hands move to my thighs, holding me in place.

The wet slide of his tongue against my clit makes my breath catch and my body ache.

My thighs tense around his head. The slow drag of his tongue makes it feel like he's learning every part of me. It’s teasing, the way he’s taking his sweet time, and just before I lose my mind from the slow torture, he pushes his tongue into me faster, harder, zeroing in on the spot that makes my breath hitch and my whole body tense up.

The sounds leaving my mouth are loud now, not bothering to hide the sheer pleasure of feeling his wet tongue on me; my hands gripping his hair so hard I’m sure it must hurt, as my hips rock forward on instinct.

My head falls back, a whimper escaping my lips as he enters two fingers into me, curling them and hitting that spot just right.

“You taste like fucking heaven, Mia… I’m never gonna get enough of this.” He moans against my core, the vibration making my hips buck against his face.

He controls the movements of his tongue in time with the motion of his fingers, alternating long, lazy strokes of his tongue with the sharp, focused pressure with his fingers inside and against my clit. His touch is everywhere, all consuming.

“That’s it, baby. Ride my face. Use me. Let me feel how desperate you are.” He growls against my skin, vibrating through me.

“Oh fuck, Grant,” I pant in between shallow breaths, his dirty talk sending me into a spiral “Your mouth, your filthy mouth, it’s so good, so.. aaahh” a feral moan leaves my mouth before I can help it as pure pleasure shoots through me.

When he slides two fingers back inside, wet and slick with my arousal, it’s with purpose, finding that sweet, swollen spot, in perfect rhythm moving circles over my clit shoving me to the edge with a whole-body jolt.

“Grant,” I cry out, my voice breaking on his name like a prayer I didn’t mean to say out loud.

“Oh God—yes, right there!” I pant, my thighs tensing around his head like I’m trying to hold myself together, and failing spectacularly.

My body starts to shake, my breathing turning ragged, head tossed back, as he sucks me in deeper, like I’m the only thing he’s ever wanted in his mouth.

He moves faster. His tongue circles my clit while his fingers thrust and curl, a perfect, devastating rhythm. The pressure builds, sharp and tight, and I can barely hold myself upright.

“Let go for me, baby,” he murmurs, voice low against my skin.

The way he says it, like he knows I’m right there—like he wants to watch me lose it for him—it’s too much.

“Oh fuck yes” I cry out as my body tightens, then unravels all at once.

My thighs clamp around his head, and I shake against him, pure pleasure tearing through me so hard it steals every word from my mouth, as I cry out sounds of pleasure I don’t even recognize.

The release pulses through me in waves. I’m soaked. I’m shaking. I’m completely, utterly gone.

And still… he doesn’t move until I finally tug at his hair, breathless, and thoroughly stimulated. My legs are jelly, my heart pounding against my ribs like it’s trying to get out.

He finally pulls away, catching me as my legs buckle. He’s breathless, aching, and grinning like a cocky bastard.

He looks up, mouth shiny, eyes heavy with hunger and pride. I can barely focus. I’m holding onto the tile like I might melt through it.

When he stands, I pull him into a kiss that’s messy and hot, tasting every bit of my pleasure on his tongue. He groans into my mouth, and I feel it—how badly he’s holding back. How wrecked he already is just from pleasuring me.

I smile against his lips. My hands slide down his pectorals, down his wet torso, tracing the dips and planes of his defined abs. His skin is hot beneath the spray, flushed from effort or need—maybe both.

Grant groans, low and rough. His hand braces on the tile next to my head as I take him into my hand, stroking him once—slow and firm. His hips twitch forward.

“I’m on the pill,” I whisper, voice low and unsteady. “And I haven’t been with anyone in over a year.” I dip my head feeling a bit embarrassed of the confession.

My hand stills on him, just for a second. The water beats down around us, but I can barely hear it over the thud of my own heart. I wait—for tension, hesitation, anything—but when I lift my eyes back to his, he’s already looking at me like I just handed him something sacred.

His gaze locks with mine. Wide. Open. Fierce.

“I’m clean,” he says, voice thick. “Got tested last month.” He leans in closer, one hand cradling the side of my face now, careful, grounding. “And I haven’t been with anyone since the first time I saw you.”

Something catches in my throat. The way he says it—steady, sure, like that was the moment everything changed for him—it knocks the air out of me.

He’s not just here for the heat. He’s here for me .

Every inch of my skin is already burning, but it’s nothing compared to the way those words ignite something deep in my chest. I nod, just once, and he sees it.

He presses his very large, very hard cock against my core, running the head through my wet clit.

“Fuck,” he breathes, jaw clenching. “You feel what you do to me? That’s not going away after once. Not even close.”

“Then don’t wait,” I whisper, guiding him closer. My thighs part, eager and open.

He grips my thighs and lifts me like I weigh nothing, his body solid beneath mine, water trailing down our bodies in hot streams. My back hits the shower wall, cool tile meeting my overheated skin.

I wrap my legs around his waist, heels locking behind him, my nipples brush against his muscled chest and he groans against my neck.

His hands slide under my thighs, holding me steady as he shifts his hips forward, the head of him pressing right where I need him. He moves slow, controlled—and I feel him begin to push into me. My fingers dig into his shoulders. I gasp. He’s so big, and the stretch is instant.

Grant stills.

His forehead presses against mine. “I have to go slow, okay,” he says, voice rough but tender. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

His words hit something deep inside me. I nod, and my throat tightens around it. Not just from the fullness, or the heat, but from the care in his voice. The reverence. Like this moment means just as much to him as it does to me.

Every second weighted with focus and restraint. He moves again—just an inch—and I feel him stretching me further, my body clenching around him as he sinks deeper. My head tips forward against his shoulder, breath caught in my throat, every nerve lit up and sparking.

“Look at me baby,” he says, voice low and commanding.

I meet his eyes. They’re dark, locked on mine, unflinching.

I’m helpless to do anything but feel—deep, hot, full—held up by nothing but his strength and the need crackling between us.

“You okay?” he murmurs on a ragged breath, one hand splayed against my lower back, holding me steady.

“Yeah,” I whisper, barely audible. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

His grip tightens. He pushes in again, slower this time, his hips working carefully, giving me time to adjust. I feel every inch of him slide inside, the pressure sharp and full and overwhelming in the best way. My jaw slackens as I let out a shaky breath.

“God, Mia,” he groans against my neck. “You’re so tight.”

I whimper when he pushes in all the way, buried deep inside me, holding still as my body tries to adjust around him. I can feel his restraint in every muscle, every breath. He’s trembling too—but waiting for me.

“Look at me, baby,” he says again, softer this time.

I lift my head. Meet his eyes.

They’re blown wide and burning—no cockiness, no rush. Just him, seeing me .

His forehead brushes mine. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

“Move,” I whisper against his lips, my voice shaky, barely a breath. “Please, Grant… move.”

He does.

He starts slow, deep. Pulling out and pushing back in, the first thrust rolls through me like a shockwave, every inch of him dragging against where I’m already throbbing. I moan—helpless and loud—my body stretching around him, still sensitive, still greedy.

The next stroke pulls more sound from my throat. Then the next.

My heels dig into his lower back, urging him closer, deeper, when he’s already buried impossibly deep.

He takes the hint, his hips snapping forward harder now, his rhythm picking up.

Wet skin slaps on wet skin. Water trickles down our bodies.

The wet sound of him moving in and out of me fills the air alongside the sharp, unfiltered gasps I can’t hold in anymore.

His mouth brushes my ear. “You feel so good,” he groans, voice thick, like every word is pulled from deep in his chest. “So fucking good, baby.” The words spill from him, as he trusts up into me all the way.

I barely manage a sound in return. I’m too focused on the way he fills me, the drag, the pressure, the delicious friction. He grips my hips with strong hands, but it doesn’t feel like control—it feels like he needs something to hold onto, like I’m the only thing keeping him grounded.

Then his mouth finds mine again. The kiss is deep.

Intense. Like everything in him is pouring into it.

His tongue slides against mine, his hips never breaking rhythm, and I melt under it—under him .

I lose track of everything but this. This rhythm.

This heat. This need that’s so far past physical now it feels like something breaking open inside me.

I whimper into his mouth, and he groans into mine.

He breaks the kiss long enough to pant, “So good for me. So goddamn tight and wet—I swear, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

I clench around him hard, on purpose, just to hear the sound it pulls from his throat. His body jerks.

“Don’t hold back,” I whisper, then gasp as he trusts up into me and my nails drag down his back, digging in. “I want all of you.”

His body shifts.

He pulls out, just for a second—enough for me to feel the sudden, empty ache before he thrusts back up into me, the thick head of him hitting just right, and I swear I see sparks behind my eyes.

“Grant,” I choke out, barely breathing. “I’m—God, I’m so close.”

His hand moves between us without hesitation, fingers finding my clit and circling in tight, precise rhythm. The second he touches me there, my legs tense around his waist, my whole body arching off the tile.

“I know, baby,” he murmurs, his voice all heat and grit. “I can feel it. Be a good girl for me and let go. Come for me baby.”

I cling to him, forehead pressed to his, mouth falling open around his name as everything inside me coils, tight and frantic, desperate for release.

The pressure builds. Sharp. Hot. Unforgiving.

I cry out, loud and broken, thighs trembling around him as my orgasm slams through me. My body clamps down on him, pulsing hard, my nails biting into his skin, and I’m shaking so badly I can’t hold my legs around him—but I don’t need to.

Grant holds me up.

“Come inside me,” I whisper. “I want to feel all of you.”

That’s all it takes.

“ Fuuuuck! ” He growls against my throat, thrusts once, twice, then stills.

His whole body tenses, muscles flexing under my hands as he spills inside me, filling me with his wet hot heat, deep and coursing, hips grinding into mine while his breath tears out of him in a sound that’s all pleasure and surrender.

We stay there, tangled in each other, water crashing down, steam thick around us, hearts hammering in sync.

He doesn't pull back. Doesn’t loosen his grip.

Just holds me there—full, shaking, quiet.

And I’ve never felt more undone… or more whole.