“Did you kiss him?” I ask. I wait, unable to breathe until I hear her answer.
She stares at me for a moment and then she shakes her head, and that’s all the prompting I need.
Reagan
I’m so pissed off that I can barely see straight. And Pete wants to know if I kissed Chase Gerald? Seriously?
He rushes toward me and grabs me in his arms, yanking me against him. He looks down into my face. “I’m going to kiss you,” he warns.
I shove him back, but it’s like pushing a brick wall. “Stop it, Pete,” I say. “You’re being ridiculous.”
He holds on tightly, though, and hitches his hands beneath my bottom, lifting me against him. Then he pushes me back against the wall of the stall. He slides a knee between my legs to hold me up, his foot resting on the side of a bag of feed, and takes my face in his hands. His breath smells like mints and Pete, and his exhale tickles my lips. “Reagan,” he breathes softly. It’s no more than a murmur, but he may as well have shouted it. My heart beats so loudly I can hear it in my ears, and I know he can feel it.
“Pete,” I say. His hands thread into the hair at my temples, and his thumbs tilt my face up so that his lips are almost touching mine. “Please kiss me,” I breathe.
His lips finally graze mine, gently at first. His mouth is closed, and he waits, his eyes open and staring into mine as he tests my mouth tentatively. He’s tender and soft, but I don’t want tender and soft. I lick across the seam of his lips, and he opens for me. His tongue invades my mouth and tangles with mine. His hands hold my face still as he takes over the kiss, growling low in his throat as he plays me. Oh, good God, does he play me. He licks into me, inside me, his tongue sliding against mine, thrusting in and out of my mouth. I match him, breathing so hard I can’t catch my breath. I hitch myself higher on his leg, pressing my panty-clad girl parts against him. My cl*t is thumping like mad, and I can’t even think about anything but relieving this most delicious ache he’s stirring inside me. His tongue pulls back from my mouth, but I don’t want him to go.
A whimper that doesn’t even sound human leaves my throat, and I pull him back to me by sucking his lower lip into my mouth. I tongue his piercing, and he growls low in his throat. I rock against his thigh, and he takes his hands from my face and puts them on my bottom so he can tug me forward on his knee. He presses just the right spot, and I lift my face to gasp, trying to find enough breath to keep my runaway heart thumping, my head falling back against the stall door. He’s taking all of my weight now because my legs would never support me even if he did let me go. His lips tickle across my chin and down the side of my neck, and he looks into my eyes as he tugs the tie at my hip and parts my dress. His hands are hot and hard as they encircle my waist, squeezing gently, not asking for my permission, but he has it. There’s no doubt about it.
He looks into my face as he raises his hand and cups my bra, his thumb tracking across my nipple. I take his hand in mine and press it harder against my breast. He growls into the side of my throat and freezes. He stops, inhaling and exhaling. I take his face in my hands and pull him back to me, but he backs his face away. “Just a second,” he pleads. “I need just a second.” He’s breathing as hard as I am.
But I don’t want to give him a second. I tug the cup of my bra down and bare my breast for him. Pete bends his head and takes my nipple into his mouth. He hums as he gives it a tug, his lips insistent as he suckles, his tongue flicking against the turgid flesh. I can’t think. I can’t stop the whimpers that escape my throat. “Pete,” I cry. He grabs my bottom and pulls me further forward, then pushes my belly until I lie back against the stall door. He looks down at my panties, and I can see the wet spot on the pink fabric. I close my eyes.
He takes my chin in his left hand and makes me look at him. “Open your eyes,” he says.
I shake my head.
He withdraws from me. “Don’t!” I cry. I need him. I don’t know what to do with this need. “I’m scared,” I say quietly. I’m not scared of Pete. I’m scared of myself. Because I’d do just about anything he asked me to do right now.
His thumb brushes the front of my panties, and my mouth falls open at the sensation. No one has ever touched me like this before. Never with such soft, sinful, sweet hands. His thumb presses my panties into my crease, and he rubs against my clit, the abrasion of the fabric not nearly enough. He kisses me, and I breathe against his lips.
“Can I put my hand inside your panties?” he asks. He nips my ear when he does it, and I cry out. I nod into his neck, moving as close to him as I can get. His hand slides between my panties and my skin, and I press my bottom closer to him, giving him more access. “So wet,” he says. I squeeze my eyes shut. His fingers trail through my wetness, and then they find that little button of pleasure that has been thumping since his lips first touched mine.
He presses the pad of his middle finger against me, his touch gentle but insistent. “Pete,” I cry.
“Reagan,” he breathes. He kisses me again, but it’s broken by my breaths, which stutter past my lips. I can’t think. I can’t talk. I can only take the pleasure he gives me. “Come for me, Reagan,” he breathes against my lips.
Then I break. I nip his lower lip when I come, and he growls, thrusting his tongue into my mouth as he absorbs my every shudder, my every gasp, my every quiver. I rock against his hand, pressing against him as he plies me. I tuck my head into his shoulder, my arms around his neck, as he wrings every last bit of pleasure from my body until I’m spent and heavy against him, still quivering, still shaking, still…in love with him. I mewl into his neck, and he hums. When my body stills, he pulls his hand from my panties, lifts me so that my legs wrap around his hips, and he stands up. Then he sits down on a bale of hay with me straddling his lap.
He holds me tightly against him as I fall back to earth. When I can lift my head, I sit up and look into his blue eyes. “What the f**k was that?” I breathe. I laugh. I can’t help it, but I never even thought I would feel this free. Ever.
He pulls me to him and wraps me in a tight hug. “That, my dearest Reagan, was one hell of a first kiss.”
“Epic,” I breathe. Then I giggle. I laugh. Just because I can.
Pete
Jesus f**king Christ that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, done, or even imagined. I’ve been with a lot of girls, but I have never had one come undone like Reagan just did. I pull her against me, her skin against my shirt. She’s warm and soft and feels so damn good on top of me that I’m in danger of coming in my pants. I hold her against me, but then she sits up, looks into my face, and says, “What the f**k was that?”
That was an orgasm. A really, really good one if her cries were any indication. If the way she trembled in my arms was any indication. If the way she said my name over and over and over was any indication. “That, my dearest Reagan,” I say, trying to remain flippant, but I’m moved. Moved unlike I have ever been moved before. “Was one hell of a first kiss.”
Her body shakes and I worry that she’s crying, but she’s not. She’s laughing. Giggling, actually. “Epic!” she screams. Then she laughs again. She throws her head back, her hair falling down to reach my hands, which are just over her ass. I look down at her boob, which is still uncovered, her nipple pert and perky and…bare. God, her tits are beautiful. I look into her face because I can’t look at her boob anymore. I want her. I want her so badly. But she’s not ready for what I want. I’m sure of it. She’s just not. I slide my finger into the edge of her bra and lift it to cover her. She looks down and flushes. She just came on my f**king hand and now she wants to be shy about it?
“You okay?” I ask, brushing her sweaty hair back from her forehead.
She nods, biting her lower lip between her teeth. I can’t help it. I’m a guy. And I’m so hard I could pound nails with my dick. “I’m so much better than okay,” she says quietly. A tear forms in the corner of her eye, but she blinks it back. “Pete,” she says. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” I murmur. I pull her down to lie on my chest and stroke the length of her hair.
“Will you go on a date with me when we get back to the city?” she asks.
Laughter bubbles within me. She just came sitting on my leg with my hand in her panties and she wants to know if I’ll take her on a date. “Of course,” I say. “I wouldn’t like anything more.” Well, I’d kind of like to come, too, but I can wait. I can wait for when she’s ready.
“Was that an orgasm?” she whispers. I imagine she’s smiling against my chest because I can hear it in her voice. She turns her head and hides her face in my shirt.
“A big one,” I say with a laugh. “Fucking huge.” I am the man. Yes, I am.
She laughs, her shoulders rocking with it, her bottom wiggling against my dick. Shit. I wish she’d stop that. “Thought so,” she whispers.
I pat her butt. “We need to get you dressed,” I say, encouraging her with a squeeze to climb off me.
She stands up, and I help her fix her clothes. Her horse makes a noise, and she looks over the stall door. She heaves a sigh. “It’ll be a few hours yet,” she says. She makes a twittery, nervous sound that might be laughter and avoids my gaze. Is she suddenly feeling self-conscious?
I scrub a hand across the back of my head and force myself not to think about the way she felt in my arms. I’m already feeling the loss of her and she’s just standing a few feet away from me. “For what?” I ask.
“Tequila is going to foal tonight.”
She’s speaking a language I don’t know.
“She’s going to have her baby,” she clarifies.
“Oh.” I don’t know what to say to that. “Do you need to call a vet?”
“No, I’ll sleep here with her.” She points to a stack of blankets in the corner. “She does most of the work. I’m just here for moral support and to help if something goes wrong.”
I scratch my head, not sure what to do with myself. “Should I go?”
She worries her lower lip between her teeth. “Want to stay with me?” she asks quietly.
God, I want nothing more. I want to sleep with her and hold her against me. Yeah, I want to have sex with her, too, but that’s the least of my desires. I nod.
She spreads out blankets on top of the hay bales where we were sitting. She motions for me to lie down and then crawls into my arms. I let out a contented sigh. “What time is it?” she asks.
I look at my watch and yawn. “Eleven thirty.”
“Late,” she whispers.
She lays her head on my chest and wraps her arm around my middle. “Let me hold you,” I say, and I press my lips to her forehead.
Her exhales tickle the hair at the neckline of my shirt, and I’m instantly hard again. I pull her leg across my lap, and she snuggles even closer to me.