Page 32 of Savage Rancher
I kiss my way down her stomach, spreading her thighs. She’s drenched—so wet I can see it on her thighs.
She tugs on my hair. "My turn.”
"Not yet. I’ve been starving for this for years, and I haven’t had my fill yet." I lower my head and suck her into my mouth. She moans, her hips bucking.
“I could do this all day,” I murmur against her. I work her with my tongue and lips, feasting. She's already close again—I can feel it in the way her thighs are trembling, the way she’s pulling my hair.
I hum, sliding my fingers back into her. "Are you going to come for me again, Emma?”
She cries out, clutching my head as her hips grind against me.
I lick, once, twice. “Come for me," I encourage, lashing her clit with my tongue.
She screams, her whole body bowing, going taut as her climax rips through her.
I watch her come apart, obsessed with every detail—the way her mouth falls open, the way her eyes squeeze shut, the way her body shakes.
Beautiful.
She's still trembling when I move back up her body and take her mouth. I'm so hard it hurts, my cock straining to get into her. I settle between her thighs, the head of my cock notched against her entrance.
"Look at me," I say, and she does—her eyes dark and hazy with pleasure.
Brushing her hair back, I hold her face, looking into her soul. “Nothing between us, now or ever. You agree to that?”
Her eyes widen. It may be years, but Emma knows me, so she understands what I’m saying. “I’m not on birth control.”
“Is that a problem?” I ask, watching her carefully. I don’t want her to agree to something she doesn’t want.
She bites her lip. Then she says, “If we have a baby boy, let’s name him Cletus.”
I rub myself against her, tapping it against her clit. “Only if it’s a girl we name her Esmeralda.”
Gasping, her hips reaching up for my cock, she looks shocked at my joke. “It’s tempting to agree just to hear you introduce your son Cletus.”
I push inside slowly, inch by inch, and she's so tight and hot and perfect that I have to grit my teeth to keep from coming right then.
"Fuck," I breathe, and she moans, her nails digging into my shoulders.
I start moving—slow, deep strokes that make her moan and arch beneath me. I hold her face, watching her, lost in her, lost in the grasping feel of her and the heat. I lower my mouth to hers and lick between her lips, swallow her gasps. I thought I was obsessed with her before, but I have a feeling the obsession is only beginning.
"Harder," she begs, and I oblige, picking up the pace, driving into her deeper, faster.
She comes again—I feel it in the way she clenches around me, in the way she cries out and digs her nails into my back.
“Say it.” I kiss her neck, nipping her pulse point with my teeth. "Say you're mine."
"I'm yours." Her head presses into the bed. "Are you mine?"
“Fuck yeah I am.” I thrust into her harder, possessing and claiming, and she comes again, her cries high pitched.
I follow her over the edge, coming deep inside her with a groan, her name torn from my throat. I roll my hips against her, growling as I feel her shudder one more time.
We collapse together onto the bed, both of us breathing hard, our bodies slick with sweat. I pull her close, rolling onto my back so she's draped across my chest.
I kiss her forehead. "I'm sorry."
She looks up at me, kind of amused. "What are you apologizing for? It wasn’t that bad."
