Page 63 of One Last Rodeo

I drag my cock through her slickness, teasing her entrance, letting her feel exactly how hard she’s made me before I prop both of her heels on the lip of the tub to spread her open.

“You want me to put on a condom?” I ask her again to be sure she knows what we're doing.

She shakes her head. “I’m on birth control. I’m clean. Are you?”

“I am. But there's always still a risk of...” I swallow the rest of that sentence.

Pregnancy. Not something I'm scared about, but I'm thinking Catalina might not be ready to have a baby with me.

She nods, "I'm not worried about that."

Then she grabs my neck and pulls me into a kiss that shuts off every bit of fear. Every bit of constant buzzing in my head. The rides. The future. What she wants from me. Whether I’m just a fun fuck. My head just quiets. My body listens. It’s just her heartbeat against mine, syncing up like it’s always been waiting for this. Waiting for her. And any words about respecting her too much to do this again? Yeah. They fly straight out the window. We’re doing this again. Multiple times, actually.

Maybe she doesn’t understand my need to keep riding in the rodeo. Maybe she never will. Maybe she won’t ask me to quit ever again like she promised, but I think she'll always think it quietly inside her pretty head. I know that worry will always be in the back of her mind. She'll always look at the danger before she looks at the man.

But maybe I’ve found something that replaces my love of riding...

I thrust into her in one deep, claiming stroke. Heat. Tightness.Home. I wrap her leg around my hip, feeling her moan against my mouth as her pussy clenches around me, grounding me harder than any eight-second whistle and a bull that wants to kill me ever has.

“Harder,” she breathes, barely a whisper.

I lose myself in her. In the way she looks at me with those sharp brown eyes that miss nothing. In the way she feels around me—warm, wet, and trusting—with nothing between us.

In the friendship that snuck up on me. The one I never expected to mean this much to either of us.

She’s not just the doctor who stitched me back together or some unexpected run-in that pushed us back into each other’s lives. She’s Catalina. Doctor Alba.Kitty. And somehow, right now, she’s all three at once for me.

I also know that she’s much more outside of me. She’s a daughter. A sister. A woman with a soft heart she keeps guarded behind surgical steel and logic and those clinical expressions she thinks I can’t read. A woman who deserves someone who takes care ofher heartthe way she takes care of every person who's ever stepped into her OR.

Carefully.

I drive into her deeper, my hand cups the back of her neck as she arches upward, pulling me closer, her grip tight like she needs me pressed against her as much as I need to be. Her nipples press into my chest, hard, aching—and every soft sound she lets out sears into my core.

Her breathing is erratic. She rolls her hips upward, sliding her pussy against my cock, taking what she needs like she wants to rush this. Each time I bottom out inside her, she gasps like I’m hitting a place no one else has ever been. I kiss her lips, her cheeks, her forehead until I'm back on her mouth.

“Not too fast,” I urge her.

I don’t stop working myself inside her. I savor the hell out of her. I pull my hips back slowly, watch where we’re joined—her arousal covering me—before pushing back in just as slow. Drawing it out. Making her feel every inch.

I touch her clit with my thumb, circling once, then take it away. Her ankles tremble against my hips, a helpless little shake that makes me smile.

"Don't tease me," she moans.

I feel her heart pounding under my palm, and I know mine's doing the same under hers. I don't think she even realizes that most of the time when she's close to me, she’s touching me. She's touching methere,like she can't help but want to feel my heartbeat in her hand.

I fucking love that.

I don’t stop driving into her until she’s right at the edge—hips bucking, breath catching, whole body coiling tight—knowing that once she comes for me like this, something in her will shift. Some wall. Some boundary. Something she won’t be able to put back up. It always has. I'm going to believe it won’t always be this way.

She moans, cries out my name—my name—and it’s the first time she's done that.

She clamps down around me, pulsing hard, her nipples throbbing, her mouth open and gasping, and I hold myself inside her for a beat—deep, steady, giving her something stiff to come around—before I allow myself to let go.

I bury myself inside her and release, feeling nothing but relief and goodness until I'm dripping out of her down into the water. A mess I don’t want to clean up tomorrow.

“Was that alright?” I ask softly, brushing her damp hair away from her face and searching her eyes. I cup her chin and tilt her face up to mine.

Her lashes flutter, and a soft smile pulls at her mouth—replacing her usual serious expression with something warm. Somethingthat only I get to see now. It’s another one of those things that's just for me to know.