Racing Hearts: Bennett Boys Ranch

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Racing Hearts: Bennett Boys Ranch Page 18

by Landish, Lauren


  I step out of the panties, standing over him in just my heels as he looks me over from head to toe and back up again. It may have felt like he’s a god, but now he makes me feel like a goddess as he kneels before me, worship in his every touch, every glance, every breath.

  He moves to pick up my foot, slipping my heel off. “I’ve got about a dozen different fantasies involving these shoes, but not this time. I want it to be just you and me, ’kay?”

  I grin, nodding. “Okay, but only if you promise to tell me each one of those fantasies.”

  He nods, his face serious as he stands back up. “Lie back for me,” he says, lifting his chin toward the bed. “I want to see you, honey.”

  I do, feeling the cool softness of expensive cotton beneath my heated skin. But the real treat is that Luke is undoing his belt, then his jeans, which fall to the floor and out of my sight. He kicks out of his dress boots, something I thought I’d never see him wearing. Slowly, he teases me with his boxer briefs, his thumbs looping into the waistband.

  I prop up to my elbows, encouraging him. “Get on with it. Let me see you again.” I mean for it to be a bit sassy, hell, maybe even bossy. But it comes out too airy to have any bite. Still, I try to be flirty. “Are you afraid I’ll bite?”

  “Hardly,” he says as he follows the order anyway and his cock fills my vision again. Beautiful. I know I already had this conversation with myself, but it’s the God’s honest truth. Luke is a stunningly beautiful man, rough-hewn around the edges, but that just increases his perfection in my eyes. He’s like a natural gemstone, not needing any polishing to put stars in my eyes.

  His cock is thick and long, and I wonder how in the hell he’s going to fit inside me. But I have faith that we’ll make it work. That he’ll make it work.

  I see the shine of pre-cum on his crown, and my mouth waters to taste him the way he has me so many times already, so I sit up. Grabbing at his hips, I pull him toward me, my intention clear.

  “Shay.” My name is a groan on his lips. “You don’t have to. I’ve got a hairpin trigger where you’re concerned right now.”

  I take the compliment, but I don’t relent. “Gimme, and then you can do me until you’re ready to go again.”

  He looks at me like I just promised him the Holy Grail, and he must decide that sounds like a fine plan because he steps closer. I run my palm up and down his shaft, feeling the silk over steel of his cock and spreading the slickness from his head. Then I stroke him, not too tight but not too loose, just like he’s shown me he likes, and bring my tongue to him.

  The first taste is a revelation. Man, musk, and earth, but sweet too.

  I run my tongue in a circle, lapping at him before wrapping my lips around him and sucking. His grunt is deep and soulful, a sound I cherish and want to pull from him again.

  I work him deeper into my mouth, tasting him an inch at a time until my lips meet my fist. I find a rhythm, slurping and sucking as I jack him off, keeping my lips and fist connected in the up and down strokes. He arches, giving me more, his hands on my shoulders to keep from falling backward. “Fuck, Shay . . .” he cries out, and I feel him grow impossibly harder in my mouth.

  He’s close, so close, and I want him to come in my mouth.

  He pushes into my mouth a little farther, and I gag slightly. Reflexively, I pull back, my eyes watering. “Sorry,” I say, a little embarrassed.

  “No, I’m sorry. Got carried away. You okay?” he says seriously, his eyes locked on mine. He runs a thumb along my lower lip, slipping through the accumulated spit stringing toward his cock. I nod, and he quietly asks, “Can I tell you something?”

  He doesn’t wait for me to nod, but he can tell me anything, anytime, and I’d want to hear it.

  His voice is deep, a secret murmur in the soft light of the room. “I liked that, slipping into your throat so that you have more me than oxygen. But not yet. For now, touch me, suck me how you want. I’ll be still.”

  I swallow thickly, my mind awhirl and my body on fire. “I liked it too, just surprised me,” I admit honestly. I look up at him through my lashes and lick my lips. “Together?”

  His jaw tightens, and I know he gets my meaning. I’m not ready for a full-on face fuck, but I don’t want him to be still. I want him to lose control a bit. For me, because of me.

  His crown passes my lips, and I taste his skin again, cupping my tongue around him. His hand delves into my hair, not forcing me but guiding me like he does when we dance. I feel like everything with Luke is a dance, an invitation to follow but not a demand, a willingness to lead with my desires at the forefront of his mind every step of the way.

  Together, we work him deeper into my mouth, slipping into my throat every few strokes as he hisses. “Yessss, that’s it. Relax and let me in.”

  It feels like a bigger statement than just about me sucking him. I need to relax and let him into my whole life, not just this secret section I’ve cordoned off for him. Because he’s taking up more and more of my mind, my heart, and my soul.

  “Shay.” His voice is strangled tight in warning, and I suck him harder, letting him bump the back of my throat and moaning my permission—no, my demand—for him to come. He roars above me as hot pulses of his cum jet into my mouth, and I feel this sense of power and accomplishment flood me.

  I did this.

  Me.

  Not wanting to forget the lesson, I swallow as much as I can, but some escapes, dribbling down my chin.

  He strokes into me three more times and then pulls free of my mouth, his chest heaving so hard his abs are outlined in stark relief. He looks like he’s just had a spiritual experience. I know I have.

  “Holy fuck,” he says, a slight crack in his ragged breath. And then his lips are on mine, giving no thought to his cum still on my lips, his taste still on my tongue. “God damn, honey.”

  He pushes at me, and I lie back on the bed, bending and opening my knees brazenly in invitation.

  His eyes wander over me, heat licking along the trail of his gaze. “You look so pretty right now. Pink and wet. Think you’re ready for me?” His hands trail up my thighs, squeezing and massaging as he gets higher.

  He spreads me open with his thumbs, and I’ve never felt sexier or more vulnerable. My hips buck beneath his hands, begging, and he obliges, swiping through my juices to spread them up to my clit.

  His attention is focused, a man on a mission as he takes me higher and higher, faster and faster. He knows my body now, having coaxed orgasms out of me in mere minutes or drawn them out for an eternity. In the barn, under the tree, by the light of the moon and the heat of the sun.

  But never in a bed. Never like this. Like this is something special. Like I’m something special.

  I try to hold on to my sanity, to reality, but it’s snatched away in a tidal wave of release as he demands an orgasm from my body and it gives in so willingly. Black spots dot my vision as I shatter to pieces, flying apart and then slamming back together, back to reality.

  I blink hard, finally seeing Luke again on the other side of whatever he just did to me. His jaw is clenched, that bump of muscle appearing and disappearing beneath the scruff. He needs me, probably as much as I need him. Maybe more.

  “For the love of God, fuck me, Luke. Please, make me yours.”

  He climbs on the bed, scooting me up until my head rests on the pillow. Like I could be going to sleep. I’m definitely not going to sleep, not with him looming over me.

  I’m going to lose my virginity to Luke Bennett, right here, right now. I’ve never wanted anything more.

  He takes my hands, interweaving our fingers, and lays them over my head. His eyes meet mine, and there’s a seriousness there I don’t expect. Not that I think this is some fling for either of us, but Luke seems intensely solemn.

  “Shayanne,” he starts, and my heart is hammering in my chest, trying to break free and fly around the room like a lost hummingbird. His gulp is audible as his Adam’s apple bobs before letting out the words he h
inted at while we were at dinner. “I love you. I need you to know that. I love you.”

  Whatever I thought he was going to say, it wasn’t that. Hot tears prick at my eyes, euphoria and disbelief battling it out inside me.

  The Big L. I knew it could happen someday. I’d seen it up close with Sophie and James.

  But for me? And with Luke?

  It stops my breath, and I have to force myself to breathe again. There’s only one answer to that, and I lick my lips, a smile tilting the trembling corners upward. “I love you too.”

  With no other words needed, he’s kissing me, tasting the words as we murmur them again and again. My eyes fly open as his cock spears through my lips, dipping in incrementally as he works his hips against me.

  He lets go of my hands, and they instantly wrap around his shoulders, holding him to me like I think he’s going to get away. He grips my hips, holding me down and not letting me help as he carefully pushes deeper into me.

  It’s not pain, just an incredible sense of fullness that washes through me as he works his way in slowly. “Relax . . .” he whispers, and I don’t know if it’s to me or to himself, but I will my muscles to soften and let him inside.

  There’s a moment of pain, but it subsides quickly. He slides all the way inside me, both of us freezing as the importance of the moment sinks in. I really am his now.

  I’m his woman.

  “You feel so good, Shay. Velvet squeezing me so fucking tight. Shit, honey.”

  His words are stilted but sexy as fuck, and they turn me on. I want to tell him too. “I feel . . .” I start, but my brain shuts down, lost to pleasure.

  His strokes become longer, filling me and then retreating to leave me wanting. Each thrust cracks something open inside me, making me more vulnerable, more lost to the pleasure of this moment, more in love with him. It’s more than physical, though that part’s amazing. It’s all-encompassing.

  “What do you feel, honey?”

  “Mmpfh. I feel . . . complete,” I try, but I shake my head. That’s not it. “I didn’t know I was empty without you.”

  That’s it. In so many ways, I didn’t know I was merely existing, not living before Luke came into my life. I didn’t know that my body could feel like this, that my heart could swell this big, that my soul was searching for his.

  The man next door who I never knew was my missing piece.

  But finally . . . finally, I’m no longer empty.

  I’m filled—with love for him, with love from him. And as he begins to stroke deep inside me, touching places I never dreamed, I’m also filled with so much cock and cum, just like he promised all those weeks ago.

  My first time. It’s beautiful in its roughness, lovely in its powerful fragility, and sexy in all its raw crudeness. It’s perfect.

  I had no idea it could be like this, but with Luke, I believe.

  I believe in miracles and adventures and possibilities, right here at home.

  Chapter 17

  Luke

  “I planned for us to go down to the Fall Festival and walk around a bit,” I tell Shayanne, though my actions don’t match my words as I open her hotel robe to expose her shoulder, laying a line of kisses along the soft skin there. “I honestly figured we might need a break. Well, I thought you might need one,” I admit, because I feel like a damn teenager, already raring to go again.

  The first time was sweet and slow and romantic, everything she deserved. But since then, we’ve been ravenous, unable to get enough of each other. I’ve had her twice more on my cock, and I’ve lost count of how many times she’s come on my fingers and tongue. It’s been a two-person orgy, a buffet of every carnal desire that crosses our minds.

  Our last round, she’d begged me to fuck her hard and I’d had to oblige. Fuck, I’d wanted to desperately. With every bit of strength I had left, I’d flipped her over and taken her from behind with punishing strokes as we watched ourselves in the big mirror over the dresser. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a prettier sight than Shayanne Tannen impaled on my cock, coming with my name crossing her lips like a prayer.

  It’s been the best twenty-four hours of my life. We’ve slept in bits and fits of exhaustion, nibbled room service from each other’s fingers, and now we’re standing in the windows overlooking town. The Fall Festival I’d planned to take Shayanne to is in full swing. From here, I can see twinkling orange lights outlining the trees against the dark night sky, a big campfire with kids roasting marshmallows, and couples walking hand in hand. The chill of the glass tells the story of the passing season.

  When Shayanne and I first danced at Hank’s, it was barely September, just after Mark and Katelyn’s August wedding. Now, we’ve passed Halloween and we’re rushing headlong into Thanksgiving and the holiday season.

  If I were ticking off days on a calendar, it wouldn’t seem like much, but it feels like an eternity because I don’t remember a time before Shayanne. Or at least, I don’t want to.

  And though the days might be short, the nights with her wrapped in my arms with only the stars and moon as witnesses have been absolutely everything. I meant it when I told her that I love her, and I can feel that she means it too.

  She leans back into me, humming happily. “I don’t want to put on clothes and go out there. Can we just watch from here?” She sounds dreamy, content. Like a kitten who’s gotten her fill of cream. My chest rumbles at the thought of how true that is.

  “We can do whatever you want, honey.” I spin her in place, pinning her against the window, my hands on her hips. “Just tell me what that is.”

  It’s a dare, and the acceptance of the challenge flares in her eyes. I wait, my breath held in my chest, knowing I’m at the top of the hill on her roller coaster and so fucking ready for her dips and swerves, the unknown twists and turns she’ll take me on.

  She bites her lip and bats her lashes, letting the tension build expertly, playing me like a damn fiddle. “I want . . .” Her lips quirk and then she lifts up to her toes, her hand wrapping around my neck to pull me down. In my ear, her breath is hot and full of promise. “I want . . . pancakes. And strawberries. Ooh, and a mimosa. I’ve never had one of those. I want the whole fancy breakfast deal.”

  She drops back to her flat feet, the happiest of grins brightening her face and telling me just how pleased she is with herself.

  I can’t help but match the smile. She’s a playful little minx, and I love her for it. “You do know it’s eight o’clock . . . in the evening, right? Sure you don’t want dinner?”

  The freshly-fucked mess of her honey waves bobs as she shakes her head. “Nope, breakfast for dinner. It’s a thing. Look it up.” She taps her pink-tipped finger to my nose. “Sophie told me. She knows these things.”

  “Breakfast for dinner it is, then,” I agree.

  A quick phone call later, and her food order is on its way. Plus bacon, because I need some protein to refuel after our aerobic endeavors.

  Struck with an idea, I grab the comforter from the floor where we kicked it off and a couple of pillows too. Shay turns, giving me a questioning look.

  “Felt a little fancy after all this time sitting in chairs and lying on a bed with you. Figured it was time to return to our roots. Well, as close as we can get up here.” I move to the sliding door and kick it open, stepping out to the small balcony.

  It’s probably generous to call it a balcony, but it’ll fit the two of us just fine, especially as close as I plan to be with Shayanne. “We might not be on the ground under our tree, but a romantic picnic overlooking the festival sounds good.”

  She seems to agree because she’s already following me outside. I get the bedding piled up on the concrete, angling to get the best view through the iron railings, and with perfect timing, room service knocks on the door.

  I set the food on the edge of the blanket and sit down, my legs splayed wide as I lean back against the pillow-cushioned brick of the building. “Come here,” I tell her, and she moves to sit in front of me. We recli
ne, her back to my chest, and I feed her a bright red strawberry. While she chews, I roll up a butter-soaked pancake taquito-style and hand it to her. She bites off the end, mumbling something that vaguely sounds like ‘delicious’.

  Right on cue, the band at the festival starts up. A moody violin cries into the night, poetic and beautiful all at once, and then an airy voice joins in. I’ve never heard it before, but a beautiful song about lost love and forgotten dreams washes through the night.

  I feel like I have my love and my dream right here in my arms. I must make some noise, a purr of happiness, maybe, because she tilts her head, looking back at me.

  “Whatcha thinking ’bout?”

  I stumble over my lack of words, a jumble in my brain flashing images of Shay. The past, the present, the possibilities of a future, all of it rushing through my head, but I don’t know how to explain. For her, I try, anyway.

  “The song,” I say, gesturing to the street below with my chin even though she can’t see me behind her. “I was thinking that it’s sad she’s alone because I have exactly what I’ve always wanted right here in my arms. It doesn’t seem fair, but I’m not giving you up, either. And I don’t give two shits if that makes me a selfish prick.” I pull her to me tighter, like a kid who won’t share their favorite toy.

  Her giggle is sweet, bubbly like the mimosa she’s barely sipped. “Selfish is not a word I’d ever use to describe you, considering our current tally.”

  I run my hand down her bare thigh, thankful for the covers of night and cotton fluffiness which conceal my somewhat public display. I growl threateningly, “You keeping score? Hell, if I’d have known that, I would’ve gone for a few more.” I tease up, inching closer to her center, and damn near roar like a possessive monster when she spreads for me.

  Her breath hitches, and I’m belatedly thankful she wasn’t chewing. I take the pancake with my free hand and stuff the remainder into my mouth.

 

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