Page 19 of Ridin’ Dirty

And I was downright eager for him to return the favor.

Sensing he was on the verge, I moaned louder, hollowed my cheeks again, and dragged my fingernails down the back of his thighs. To my delight, the next thing I knew, he was coating the back of my throat.

“Hell, yeah,” he grunted, his hips twitching erratically.

When he was finished, he loosened his hold in my hair before slowly easing his dick out of my mouth. I didn’t bother pretending I wasn’t appreciative of the ability to breathe greedily through my lips.

I only managed to gulp down a couple breaths before he had hold of my face again. He forced my head back, so I had nowhere to look but into his dark green eyes.

For a second, I thought he’d kiss me, and it surprised me how much I wanted him to—my longing not merely visceral but almost vulnerable, like the touch of his lips on mine would give voice to the depth of his approval.

His approval in his choice of me that night.

He didn’t kiss me.

To my bemusement, he grazed the pad of his thumb across my chin, wiping away the mess of saliva smeared below my lower lip.

“Better than I imagined.”

He murmured the words so softly, his deep voice all but masking the clarity of his statement, I almost didn’t catch what he said. I barely registered the sentiment before he jutted his chin behind me.

“Bed, babe,” he demanded. “On your back. Dress up. Knees spread. Now.”

Remembering his promise from earlier, I didn’t need to be told twice.

Like I was his to command, I dropped my hands to the hard, cool floor in an effort to help myself to my feet. No sooner was I was upright than I made my way to the bed, lowered myself onto it, and leaned back until I was propped up on my elbows. I then hooked my heels into the metal bed frame on which the mattresses resided, unabashedly spreading my knees wide.

When I was situated, I cast a brazen look at Pistol and found him standing where I left him. His jeans were back up over his hips, but his dick was still out and in his hand.

Fuck me, he was still half hard.

The muscles of my sex clenched, and I felt it as a little more of my arousal leaked out of me, slowly sliding down my seam. I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, curled my fingers around the sheets beneath me, and spread my knees wider, as wide as I could get them. I felt ravenous, the wild in me begging to be released. I was so turned on, a cool breeze could have made me come.

After what might have been two seconds, even though it felt more like five minutes, Pistol made his way toward me and slowly sank to his knees, eyeing my center all the while. I watched as he carefully lifted the drenched fabric of my thong, shifting it out of his way, a slow smile pulling at the corners of his mustache.

He looked up at me through his lashes—lazily, languidly—like he was in no hurry, and drawled, “It’s been three years since I’ve had lips around my cock. Came hard and fast on account o’you. But this pussy’s practically weepin’ from neglect—fuckin’ beggin’ for me, babe. What’s your excuse?”

It was futile to feign nonchalance, but I shrugged anyway, trying to play it cool.

The truth was, I had been neglected.

Sure, I’d managed to find pleasure a few times since I moved home, but nothing that came close to the likes of him.

I hadn’t known a Stallion in as long as he hadn’t known a woman.

Man, how I wanted this one.

“You’re hot. Besides, foreplay started hours ago,” I managed to say, sounding only a little breathy.

His slow smile turned into a cocky one, and then—finally—he descended for a taste.

The walls of my core fluttered the instant he flattened his tongue against me, licking his way from just above my ass all the way to my clit. When he hummed, I felt the vibration of the sound before he repeated the act. On his third pass, he thrust his tongue inside of me, and I could no longer hold my head up in order to watch.

“Oh, yes,” I moaned.

He responded with a grunt, shoving a finger inside of me as he sucked my clit into his mouth. Freeing another moan, I laid fully on my back, so I was free to move my hands. I dove my fingers into his curly, blond locks—only marginally aware of how thick and silky the strands were—too busy succumbing to the sorcery of this man’s tongue.

He added another finger, sucking me harder, all the while flicking his tongue back and forth across my bundle of nerves until I detonated.