Cowboy Christmas Blues. Maisey Yates
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take much work to get her skirt, and the rest of that foundational garment, pulled off her beautiful body, leaving it mostly bare for his inspection. Generous breasts, a nipped-in waist, and rounded hips and thighs.
Everything looked great to him.
“You’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen a long time.”
Her blush extended from her cheeks on down. “That can’t be true. There are...the other women. The ones you’ve...also seen naked.”
He grinned at her. “Other women? Can’t remember them.”
“Well. The town is all decorated for Christmas. It’s awfully pretty.”
“Not as pretty as you. Trust me. Christmas trees and white lights, tinsel... Doesn’t interest me at all. You, on the other hand... I find you very interesting. Now, I want you to take that bra and those panties off.”
Her blush intensified, but she obliged him, reaching behind her to unhook her bra, casting it to the side before pushing the black lacy panties down her shapely thighs and kicking them to the foot of the bed. His stomach felt hollowed out, his arousal ramped up to such an intense degree that he was in physical pain.
“I don’t have abs,” she pointed out, shrinking back further onto the bed.
“You have everything that I need,” he said, leaning forward, planting his palm on the bedspread and kissing the top of one of her thighs. She shivered and then moved away from him.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He huffed out a one-note laugh and then gripped her hips, holding her still. “If you have to ask, then you just answered one of my questions.”
“What?”
“Your ex is an asshole, I take it.” He leaned in then, parting her thighs and tasting her right at the apex, sliding his tongue through slick folds until she whimpered. Her pleasure, her flavor, was salvation. A respite from the dull pain that had crawled inside his chest and hammered out a large yawning space inside him over the past week. Hell, maybe over the past eight years.
That terrible grief that was always there, that had pushed its way up to the foreground recently and refused to go away.
It had no place here. No. This was all about them. The world, the town, the damned Christmas lights...they had all fallen away.
It was just him, her and this bed. Her body. His desire.
He continued to pleasure her, sliding two fingers inside her as he worked at that most sensitive place with his tongue. She was panting, gasping, and he thought that she might try to get away from him again, so he held on to her as tightly as possible, his blunt fingertips digging into those lush hips.
When she came, it was like the clouds had broken open and he’d gotten his first hit of sun in months. The first bright thing. The first good thing.
He moved away from her, shucking his jeans and underwear, kicking them on the floor. “Condoms?” he asked.
“Um... In the bathroom?”
That was more steps away than he cared to take. He bent down and grabbed his wallet, producing protection and rolling it on as quickly as possible. She was staring at him, wide-eyed, and he felt that like a physical touch. Then she sat up, clamoring to the edge of the mattress. She curved delicate fingers around his hardened length, glittering brown eyes looking up at him in wonder as she squeezed him.
He groaned, flexing his hips forward, thrusting upward into her grasp. She held him like that for a while, exploring his length, testing him.
“I’m done playing,” he said, grabbing hold of the back of her head and bending down, kissing her hard as he pressed them both backward onto the bed, as he settled himself between her legs.
They had all night. They could play around later. But for now, he needed to be inside her.
He felt like he had waited forever, even though it had been no time at all. They hadn’t wasted any time talking, and yet he felt like he knew her. He knew that she should be a lot more confident in how beautiful she was; he knew that a man was responsible for making her feel like shit. He knew that she hadn’t been pleasured nearly as extensively as she should have been in her life. Knew that she had a neat little life. Knew that she took care of her things, and that having undivided attention on her made her uncomfortable.
All that knowledge added up to something big. Made him feel like he’d been waiting for this moment for years rather than an hour or so.
He pressed the head of his arousal against the slick entrance to her body, dragging the broad head through her wetness before pushing in an inch or so, rolling forward slowly, teasing her methodically.
Teasing them both.
She whimpered, the sound building into a moan that came from deep inside her.
Then he lost it completely. He bucked forward, burying himself to the hilt, swallowing her little gasp of pleasure as he did.
She gripped his shoulders, wrapping her legs around his waist, her lush lips pressed against his ear. “Yes,” she whispered. “Harder.”
And Cooper was a gentleman, so he obliged.
He bucked into her, losing all sense of time, of anything other than the red-hot pleasure that was racing down his veins, that was overtaking him completely.
She was hot, so hot and responsive, tight around his cock. She met his every thrust, a sweet sound of pleasure on her lips each time he thrust back home. When she came, she gasped, the expression on her face one of wonder, like he had given her a gift. And damn it all, he couldn’t hold back any longer.
His control broke entirely, and he froze as his own release took him over, grabbing him by the throat and shaking him hard, leaving him nearly blacked out as he pulsed deep inside her tight, wet body.
He collapsed against her, pressing his forehead down on hers. She clung to him, her fingernails digging into his shoulders, her heels pressed into the backs of his thighs.
“Cooper,” she whispered. “Oh, Cooper.”
A rush of adrenaline worked its way through him, a strange sensation prickling over his skin.
He had never told her his name. He was sure of that. He lifted his head, looking down at the woman who was currently staring dreamily up at him.
Eyes that were very familiar. An expression that was very familiar.
A memory swam in front of his vision. Of waking a sleeping teenager in the loft of his parents’ barn. Those sleepy, dreamy brown eyes had looked up at him just like this.
And suddenly he realized that he was buried balls deep inside little Annabelle Preston.
One of his father’s best friends’ daughters. A girl who had spent ages following him around the family ranch, all round chubby cheeks and hopeful eyes.
A woman he’d known since she was a child, and who he had just screwed within an inch of both their lives.
Well, fuck.
COOPER HAD GONE still on top of Annabelle, and her brain was buzzing from the spectacular orgasm she’d just had.
She had never had sex like that in her life. She had never been with a man that looked like him, had never had a man do...that to her. She had never, absolutely never, come twice in one...session.
She was lucky if she got to come once.
But now her fuzzy feelings were fading because Cooper was looking at her like he had just seen a ghost.
“Annabelle,” he said.
His tone was so confused, his expression so dumbfounded. She couldn’t