Love at First Revenge Bonus Scene

“Not nearly,” I agree, shivers of longing running up and down my spine. This is how every day goes with my cowboy—scintillating, seductive, temptation embodied.

“Not sure I can fit that bill, though,” he murmurs, clenching his jaw and drawing my attention away from filthy thoughts back to our conversation.

“Fit what bill?” I scrunch my face.

“Of being romantic and fantastical,” he clarifies, licking his lips sensually.

Yearning hums through me, centering in my lower core, my pussy demanding and tight. I know exactly what that man can do with his tongue. I need him to show me again.

“I don’t even know what you mean,” I counter. “How can you talk like that when you’re the cowboy who spoils me rotten?”

“And makes you clean horse sweat off leather.” Bowie frowns.

“Who lets me clean horse sweat off leather,” I correct, raising my chin determinedly. “So, I can call myself a cowgirl.”

“The first time you rode this cowboy, you earned that honor, Hummingbird,” he says, stepping closer.

I ignore his last comment and the shrinking distance between our flesh, body already aching and hot, cheeks glowing. Trying to retain some semblance of logical thought, I add, “The same cowboy who won’t even let me open my own door or a bottle of wine. Who insists on carrying me everywhere—”

“You feel good in my arms,” he confesses. “Like I never want to let you go.”

“And who likes keeping me naked and thoroughly bred …” My pulse quickens as I watch his pupils dilate. He swallows loudly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he moves closer, inching towards me, anticipation building.

“You keep talking like that, Ji, and we won’t get any of our stable chores done,” he warns, nostrils flaring and eyes settling on my mouth.

“What if I want to be naughty?” I ask. “Forgo what we’re supposed to do for what we want to do? Would that be so bad?” My cheeks heat, reflecting on our first month together. Thirty days of torrid kisses, whispered promises, and lovemaking of the most intimate and feral kind. The kind that heats me from the inside out just thinking about it.

Crossing the distance and pulling me into his iron-hard grip, he asks, “You mean making up for lost time?”

I nod, licking my lips. “If Belle and Fortune will be okay for a few minutes?” Belle’s the dainty brown American Quarter Horse I rode, and Fortune, the gray dappled gelding Bowie prefers.

“More like a few hours.” He growls. My body quakes at the masculine sound. “They’ll be fine.”

Thank God because I don’t think I can wait much longer to be claimed by my wild cowboy mountain man.

Tugging me closer, his voice softens. “I don’t rightly know how I ever lived without you before.”

“Neither do I,” I second with a naughty smile. “Or that big, thick cock of yours.”

“Mmm.” He groans, pressing his hips firmly against my core so that his long shaft digs into my stomach.

Looking down, I croon, “You know, I can think of much better places for that.”

“Oh, yeah?” he pants, cheeks flushing. Grabbing me around the waist, he hauls me into his arms. My legs hungrily wrap around his waist and my arms around his neck.

“But what about the horses?” I tease, lips a hair’s breadth from his. Electricity shuttles between us, searing and heavy. My pussy throbs, so close to his cock. I curse the fabric separating us. “Don’t we need to check them for injuries and then wash and dry them?”

He nods, pride washing over his face. “There you go, Hummingbird. You already sound like a regular horsewoman.” Bowie captures my mouth, claiming me with a ferocity that instantly heightens my pulse and turns my panties into a flood of need.

“We should … probably rub … them down … with liniment, too,” I rasp between hungry kisses, gasping for air and speaking only when we reluctantly pull apart. “After all, we rode them hard today.”

His twinkling eyes catch mine as another grin captures his face. “Not as hard as I’m going to ride you, Cowgirl.”

I moan, pussy throbbing and head spinning.

He thrusts his hips towards me to punctuate his words. His thick rod feels harder than the granite of the Sierra Nevada, pressed against my stomach. I can’t wait to sheath him in my wet velvet, sliding up and down his girth. Savoring the ecstasy of his face as I squeeze and tug him, leading him over the edge of bliss one heady thrust at a time.

His big, work-hardened hand slides between our bodies, fingers grinding over the crotch of my Wranglers. I strain towards him, desperate for friction.

“What do you have in mind, Lancelot?”

He chuckles at the silly nickname, cocking his head to the side so that our cowboy hat brims don’t collide. Capturing my mouth, his tongue fervently mates with mine as my fast-paced whimpers and his chest-rumbling moans pepper the air.

“Well, the first time I met you, I handcuffed you. I still regret not doing more with you tied up.”

“More? Like what?” I question breathlessly.

His eyes dart around the stable. “Instead of telling you, how about I show you?” he asks, voice dark and thick like audible molasses.

“And how do you plan on doing that?”

“I’m going to tie you up, and then I’m going to have my way with you. Every lovely, fucking, perfect inch of you. I’ll bend you over and eat you out so slowly and painstakingly, you’ll beg for my cock. I’m going to teach you patience with this tongue, Hummingbird. And then, I’m going to teach you pleasure all over again. Until you cream my fingers, face, and cock, and I paint the walls of your womb. Got it?”

“But I’m all sweaty from riding,” I protest.

He furrows his brows. “You really think I’m going to let a little sweat get in the way of devouring you? You don’t know me very well then, Hummingbird.”

“I knew you’d say that,” I admit, playfully tipping his cowboy hat. He dives into me again, claiming my mouth with a ferocity that melts my body like butter in a frying pan. My gray Stetson falls to the ground with a soft thud, and I couldn’t care less. All thought devolves to visceral need, core trembling for his naked touch.

Bowie lets me down slowly, reluctantly, the heat between our bodies heightened by my nipples dragging down his chest. As soon as my feet hit the stable floor, I bend to grab my hat and dash toward the exit, calling over my shoulder. “But first you have to catch me.” My pussy gulps greedily at thoughts of being chased down by this man, tied up, and forced to enjoy every inch of the pleasure he gives.

As if reading my mind, he grabs a nearby rope, sauntering in my direction. “I won’t stop until you’re pinned beneath me, so topped up with my cum it drips down those lovely, thick thighs of yours …”

It’s a promise I can’t wait for my cowboy protector to keep as I sprint away from him, only going fast enough to prolong the thrill of the chase. Knowing it won’t be long before my lips, tits, body, and pussy can’t take being away from my soulmate and lover any longer.

Whoosh! A rope drops over my waist, pinning my arms. An expert tug gently stops me, drawing me back towards Bowie. Pulling the lasso slowly towards him, my eyes meet his as I begrudgingly comply, inching in his direction. Our gazes lock, heat and anticipation steaming and smoking between them.

“Get over here, and take your man like a good girl. Every rock-hard inch of him.”

My heart flutters in my chest, my cheeks burning. “Yes, Cowboy. Make me yours.” Again and again … forever.

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