Read Online Taking the Bull by the Horns by MJ Fredrick - Free Book Online
Authors: MJ Fredrick
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her around the waist and fell with her to the bed.
"Turnabout's fair play."
She squirmed underneath him, making his eyes go dark again. “No, please don't! I love this blouse."
He slid his hands from the hem to the waist of her jeans.
"And these jeans. Please, don't, Taylor."
He slipped his fingers under the waistband and found the silky fabric of her panties. He lifted his eyebrows in question.
"No, no! These are the only sexy panties I have, and you know there's no place to get them here in Wayback!"
"Sexy, hm?” He rubbed the fabric between his fingers.
"Well, as in, not cotton."
"This I have to see for myself."
He pulled her upright and stripped her blouse over her head as she pushed his ruined shirt from his shoulders. His eyes glinted at the sight of her full breasts in her best black lace bra and he dragged his mouth from the underside of her chin, down her throat and over the curves, pressing kisses between them, lifting them in his hands, his thumbs sliding over her nipples. Heat shot straight to her core at the caress, then he closed his mouth over one lace-clad nipple, drawing it into his mouth, hot and eager, suckling, then abandoning it for the other.
Just when she slid her hand up to close over the back of his head to hold him to her, he lifted his head and reached for the waistband of her jeans. She returned the favor, tugging his belt open, then diving for his button fly.
"Can I trust you?” he asked solemnly, dropping to his side facing her.
"I told you it's been awhile. I may be a little overeager."
"I like overeager.” He let her skim his jeans down his legs and started peeling hers, panties and all.
So much for picking her sexy underwear.
But he made her feel so good, not self-conscious at all, as she'd feared. He made her laugh, and he made her ache, and then he made her come, his fingers quick and skilled, and he dragged out the sensation before she begged him to fill her. He reached across the bed to fumble in a drawer with one hand while he unhooked her bra with the other. The rustle of cellophane filled the tiny room as he nuzzled her breast, suckling, stroking. She reached between them for his erection and he gasped against her skin when she closed her fingers around him, stroked slowly, learning him, learning what pleased him. Which seemed to be everything, judging by his breathing.
He lifted his head and pressed the open condom into her hand. “Don't rip this, too."
"Why? Aren't there more?"
"There's more."
"Thank God,” she murmured, and sheathed him. Then she parted for him and cried out as he filled her slowly, slowly, waiting for her body to accept him before he started moving. He cradled her face in his hands and looked at her when he started to move.
Then she was moving too, and they found a rhythm, only to lose it and find another, then another.
"I'm fine if you want to lead this time,” he teased.
"I don't remember how."
He withdrew and rolled onto his back, reaching for her. “You'll figure it out."
Never would she have thought she would have the confidence to be on top, not with a young, handsome cowboy. How had he managed to melt her resistance, her self-consciousness? But this wasn't just a young, handsome cowboy. This was Taylor, and she brought him into her, dragging a moan from both of them. He didn't touch her until she found a rhythm that suited both of them, then he closed his hands over her hips and surged into her, matching her movements.
"I don't think I can—"
"Oh, yes, you can.” And he dipped his thumb between them, dragging it along that bundle of nerves and bringing her to a shattering orgasm before tumbling her onto her back and driving into her, finding his own pleasure before collapsing over her.
* * * *
"I hate sending you home.” Taylor lay on his side, one hand propped under his head as he watched Lavender gather her scattered clothes and put them on again.
She was still shaking from their second go-round, and knew if she
"Turnabout's fair play."
She squirmed underneath him, making his eyes go dark again. “No, please don't! I love this blouse."
He slid his hands from the hem to the waist of her jeans.
"And these jeans. Please, don't, Taylor."
He slipped his fingers under the waistband and found the silky fabric of her panties. He lifted his eyebrows in question.
"No, no! These are the only sexy panties I have, and you know there's no place to get them here in Wayback!"
"Sexy, hm?” He rubbed the fabric between his fingers.
"Well, as in, not cotton."
"This I have to see for myself."
He pulled her upright and stripped her blouse over her head as she pushed his ruined shirt from his shoulders. His eyes glinted at the sight of her full breasts in her best black lace bra and he dragged his mouth from the underside of her chin, down her throat and over the curves, pressing kisses between them, lifting them in his hands, his thumbs sliding over her nipples. Heat shot straight to her core at the caress, then he closed his mouth over one lace-clad nipple, drawing it into his mouth, hot and eager, suckling, then abandoning it for the other.
Just when she slid her hand up to close over the back of his head to hold him to her, he lifted his head and reached for the waistband of her jeans. She returned the favor, tugging his belt open, then diving for his button fly.
"Can I trust you?” he asked solemnly, dropping to his side facing her.
"I told you it's been awhile. I may be a little overeager."
"I like overeager.” He let her skim his jeans down his legs and started peeling hers, panties and all.
So much for picking her sexy underwear.
But he made her feel so good, not self-conscious at all, as she'd feared. He made her laugh, and he made her ache, and then he made her come, his fingers quick and skilled, and he dragged out the sensation before she begged him to fill her. He reached across the bed to fumble in a drawer with one hand while he unhooked her bra with the other. The rustle of cellophane filled the tiny room as he nuzzled her breast, suckling, stroking. She reached between them for his erection and he gasped against her skin when she closed her fingers around him, stroked slowly, learning him, learning what pleased him. Which seemed to be everything, judging by his breathing.
He lifted his head and pressed the open condom into her hand. “Don't rip this, too."
"Why? Aren't there more?"
"There's more."
"Thank God,” she murmured, and sheathed him. Then she parted for him and cried out as he filled her slowly, slowly, waiting for her body to accept him before he started moving. He cradled her face in his hands and looked at her when he started to move.
Then she was moving too, and they found a rhythm, only to lose it and find another, then another.
"I'm fine if you want to lead this time,” he teased.
"I don't remember how."
He withdrew and rolled onto his back, reaching for her. “You'll figure it out."
Never would she have thought she would have the confidence to be on top, not with a young, handsome cowboy. How had he managed to melt her resistance, her self-consciousness? But this wasn't just a young, handsome cowboy. This was Taylor, and she brought him into her, dragging a moan from both of them. He didn't touch her until she found a rhythm that suited both of them, then he closed his hands over her hips and surged into her, matching her movements.
"I don't think I can—"
"Oh, yes, you can.” And he dipped his thumb between them, dragging it along that bundle of nerves and bringing her to a shattering orgasm before tumbling her onto her back and driving into her, finding his own pleasure before collapsing over her.
* * * *
"I hate sending you home.” Taylor lay on his side, one hand propped under his head as he watched Lavender gather her scattered clothes and put them on again.
She was still shaking from their second go-round, and knew if she
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