Page 81 of Savage Rancher
And then I'm naked beneath him, and he's looking at me like I'm something precious.
Something worth protecting.
Something worth dying for.
"Jake—"
"Shh." He kisses the inside of my thigh. "Let me take care of you."
And then his mouth is on me, and I forget how to breathe.
He's slow. Intentional. Every stroke of his tongue with purpose, building me up gradually instead of rushing me over the edge. It's different from before. Different from the urgency in the kitchen the first time, the desperation in my house.
This is intimate.
Connected.
Like he's worshipping me.
My hips try to move, to chase the pleasure, but his hands hold me steady.
"Patience," he murmurs against me, and the vibration makes me moan.
He takes his time, learning every response, every gasp, every shudder.
And when I finally come, it's a slow wave that builds and crests, flowing higher and higher until I'm writhing beneath him, his name falling from my lips like a prayer.
"That's it," he says softly, kissing and nibbling my clit. “Give me another, sweetheart. Drench me.”
I shake my head, but his fingers curl into me, rubbing me just right to set off another tsunami of pleasure.
When I finally come down, he's kissing his way back up my body until his erection teases my opening.
The weight of him settles between my thighs, and I wrap my legs around his waist. I thought I was done, but it’s like seeingcake after you have an enormous meal—you always have room for cake.
"Please," I whisper.
He enters me slowly—so slowly I feel every inch, every stretch, every perfect point of connection.
This isn't fucking.
This is something else entirely.
He moves with the same deliberate intention, each thrust slow and deep, his eyes locked on mine.
"I love you," he says, and it's not desperate or possessive.
It's simple. True.
"I love you too."
And—God help me—I do. So much my heart feels like it could burst.
His pace stays slow, sensual, each thrust hitting something deep inside me that makes my breath catch. "You feel so good," he murmurs against my neck. "So fucking perfect."
I arch into him, my nails dragging down his back, and he groans. "Emma."
"I'm going to come," I whisper.
