Page 89 of Wildflowers & Whiskey

I slide my hand up the inside of her thigh, slow enough to be deliberate, stopping just short of where she needs me. I watch her stomach cave in with the effort of staying still.

“Use your words.”

“I hate you,” she breathes.

“No, you don't.” I press a single kiss to the inside of her knee. “Try again.”

The sound that escapes her does things to my self-control I won't be admitting to. Her hands, still bound, flex against the rope.

“Please, Wade. I need —” she stops, swallows. “I need you. Please.”

There it is.

I stand, unhooking the rope from the post in one motion, her body sagging forward slightly with the release of tension. I catch her before she goes anywhere, hands gripping her waist, pulling her flush against me so she can feel exactly what she's done to me, tied there, begging in my hat.

I press my mouth to her ear.

“Was that so hard, angel?”

Her answer is a sharp intake of breath that I feel against my chest.

Good enough.

We are playing a dangerous game doing this in such an open space; anyone could walk in. I glance at my watch; we still have about twenty minutes before people flood into the main part of the ranch, returning from the further pastures or town.

That’s enough time to give my angel what she wants.

I spin her around, grabbing her hands so I can use the rope again to tie them behind her back. There is no way I am letting her think she is off the hook for her bratty behaviour.

I hook my fingers into the waistband of my jeans, pushing them down just enough to free my erection.

My hands find her hips, drawing her back against me before I press her forward, bending her, her body yielding to mine as I hold her there, exactly where I want her.

“This is going to be hard and fast, angel,” I warn her, my voice low.

I’m inside her in a single, decisive thrust. I fist her ponytail in one hand using it to drive deeper, setting a relentless pace. Her ass bounces off me, every motion slamming her back onto me again.

She cries out loud, and somewhere in the back of my mind I know I should care who might hear. But I don’t. The sound of her, the way she lets go, only fuels me more. I thrive on it. On her. On the way pleasure overtakes her because of me. It’sintoxicating.

I push harder. Faster. And God… She really must be an angel, because the way she feels around me is nothing short of heavenly.

As I teeter on the edge, the world narrowing to nothing but her, I swear I can almost see the light. And if this is how I go—losing myself inside her—then so be it. Because sinning with an angel… My angel… Might just be the best damn way to go.

I drive into her one last time, heat flooding through me as the pleasure hits me hard, stealing the breath from my lungs.

I grip onto her hips, holding her in place as I ride out the waves.

“Fuck, angel.” I exhale slowly. “You are a fucking delight”

She lets out a soft airy laugh, the sound light but worn through by what we just did.

“Can you untie me now?”

I give a low chuckle, pushing myself back and hitching my jeans up, not bothering much with the buckle yet. My hands go to the rope, working the knots loose with steady fingers, the kind of patience that comes from years of knowing what you’re doing.

She is set free in seconds. And when she turns around, I grab onto her and kiss her softly.

“Well, remind me to show you more of my books if that's what I get from it.” She’s beaming.