Page 61 of One Last Rodeo

He lifts my hips with both hands, lines his cock up at my entrance, and pulls back just enough to look in my eyes first.

“Sit on it,” he says, voice rough. “Fuck yourself on me in this water while I watch you come. You deserve this, but please know that I think you deserve a lot more than a quick fuck in a hot tub.”

I reach under the water, grip his tip, guide him where I want him, and then sink down slowly. The stretch, the burn, it feels so good to be full of Jensen again.

“Oh… f-fuck,” I sigh.

And for now, this is all I’m focusing on.

I'll think about the rest of what he said another time.

Chapter 18 – Jensen

Catalina rocks up onto her knees before slowly sinking back down onto me.

My mind's been quiet since we landed in Tennessee. Normally, I'd chalk that up to the mountain air and being home. But I know that's not the reason. It's been quiet since I stepped onto the tarmac in Los Angeles and saw her waiting there. Sitting in the seat beside mine, wearing that pretty smile only I get to see.

Her tight pussy squeezes my cock. Her breasts flatten against my chest, and her fingers are looped tightly around my neck like she’s afraid to let go.

I hope that she doesn't.

I’m not thinking about what’s respectful or disrespectful anymore. I’m thinking aboutherand her choosing this.Me. Us. Whatever the hell this is turning into that feels like a lot morethan just mutual attraction, a one-night stand we shared that turned into two, and friendship.

I capture her mouth with mine, slide my tongue inside hers and taste her. She always tastes so good. She smells good too. Her fingers move to my neck, where she plays with the damp strands of hair. I feel the softness in her touch everywhere—down my spine, in my gut, low in my hips, a lot in my heart.

There’s an art to kissing that people don’t talk about enough. The push and pull—one leading, the other following, the give and the take. It’s like dancing, which is something else I just know Catalina must be good at. She teases the same way she moves through life. Confidently. And it's so damn intimidating even when I know she wants me back. Maybe because I’m not sure if it’s for good.

Pair that with her slick, bare pussy wrapped around my cock, and I’m already seeing stars behind my eyes that tell me this might all be too good to be true for a man like me.

“Hold on, Kitty,” I murmur against her eager mouth. “Easy.”

She dives her fingers into my hair and holds me there, refusing to let me pull away from our kiss. I chuckle against her lips. Her heavy breasts rub against my chest with each shift of her hips, the water lapping around our bodies, warm enough to make everything feel like something straight out of a movie.

"Slow down, Kitty, you're going too fast," I say.

She doesn't slow.

I think a lot of women believe men hold all the power in relationships. That we're the ones with endless options, doors opening everywhere we turn, while they're the ones trying to earn our attention.

Maybe that's because the patriarchy has spent generations convincing women they have less power than they really do. Because if there's one thing I've learned, it's that women have no idea how much influence they have over us simple-minded men.

If only they knew the truth.

The truth is that when it comes to a woman we’re interested in, a woman who looks at us the right way, asks for something in that quiet, dangerous voice they have, we’re helpless. There’s almost nothing we wouldn’t do for her if she asked. No line we wouldn’t cross. No pride we wouldn’t swallow.

Because while we might be the ones reaching for them, they’re the ones holding the real gift. They’re the ones who decide if we get to touch them. If we get to taste them. If we get to feel their beautiful bodies open for us at all.

And when they do… a man will spend the rest of his life trying to be worthy of getting just one more chance.

It's quiet out here under the Tennessee stars. One of my favorite parts of being in the country at my grandma's house. No witnesses. No people snapping photos in your face asking about your next ride and whether your heart's holding up from the surgery. I know it’s doing just fine. Because the doctor who fixed it is currently in my arms, kissing me like I’m something special.

“Hold on,” I say again with a chuckle. “Baby, slow down. I’m not wearing a condom.”

“I don’t care.”

I pull back from our kiss, forcing her to take a break so that I can study her face carefully. Determination is carved into her usually serious features. That’s gone now. She's relaxed, she's smiling, she's breathless. She’s happy. She’s sure about this.

God, she’s pretty. Pretty in a way that I've never seen up close in any other woman before. Maybe because I didn't care to notice. Maybe because Catalina’s unique to me. Because it's not just her physical appearance, it's everything about her that makes her beautiful.