Alphas of Red Moon Ranch(62)

“Not until I’m inside of you,” he told her. Which was the worst thing he could say because just that, the thought of his dick deep inside of her, made her tighten around his fingers, body trembling with need.

He didn’t stop there. Instead, he kept her teetering on the edge, fingers coiling inside of her, thumb bumping her protruding nub, for what felt like forever but was probably closer to five, ten minutes. Only when she was truly a writhing, pleading mess did he finally pull his fingers out of her. Holly whimpered, relieved that she could finally catch her breath, her pleasure borderline agonizing at this point, but at the same time, she ached for him to be back inside of her. Her body buzzed with unspent need, her nipples tight and aching; even her mouth felt dry from hanging open with each gasped breath.

“Get up,” he whispered in her ear.

Holly got up, as ordered, but just barely. Her legs were trembling, weak, and she had to perch herself on the edge of the table just to keep upright. There, she took a small sip of cold water from the glass on the table. As she set it back down, her eyes fell on a large, dark spot on his jeans, right on the thigh where she’d been sitting. When she realized that she’d done that, dripped all the way down through his pants, Holly felt a blush rise up her neck and flame out into her cheeks.

A mistake. He saw her blush—she knew he did, because he got that look in his eyes, that dark, carnal look. Jacob’s eyes didn’t leave hers—not once—as he unbuttoned his pants, raised his hips and pushed his jeans and boxers down off his feet. His shirt went as well—dropping to the floor behind him—and Holly’s breath caught. Every. Single. Time. His naked body never ceased to amaze her. That broad chest, thick with curly hair that tapered down his body like a flock of geese in perfect v-formation. That muscled, defined stomach. And—finally—his impressive cock, standing (rightfully) proud. Beet-red with the blood that pumped through it, tip already glistening.

King. He truly was worthy of worship.

His large hands cupped her rear and took the sides of her panties.

“How much do you like these panties?” he asked her.

“They’re a lost cause,” she murmured. She’d soaked them completely.

Unceremoniously, he ripped them from her legs like tissue paper.

Whimper.

Holly’s impressive, lengthy vocabulary dried up in her throat.

“Come back in my lap,” he told her.

She didn’t have to be told twice; she practically launched herself at him. Holly straddled him now and folded her legs on either side of him. She reached down and wrapped her hand around his cock, urging him inside of her. He was big, and it’d been over a week since he’d been inside of her. Even as drenched as she was, her body protested lightly at his intrusion. But with a throb it gave way, pulling him deeper inside of her.

Jacob was solid underneath her, like an ancient oak, and her fingers curled around his shoulders, nails digging in. His hands cupped her rear, holding her against him, but he let her set the rhythm and pace. His dick felt hot and delicious inside of her and Holly knew then and there that she wouldn’t be able to slow down. She rocked against him, quickly, her hips slamming down on his. The chair arm hit the table with a pattering thunk-thunk-thunk with every thrust. Holly gasped, her head dropped against his chest, and she lost herself in his scent, his old wood, deep earth scent. She heard him moan, felt his fingers tighten on her ass, and then heard her name drop from his lips. “Ah…God…Holly.”

“Please,” she begged, teetering on the edge, tight, so tight around his cock, as she rode him in short, frantic humps. She could feel her clit bump against the base of his meaty cock and her thighs quivered. “Please, please, please…”

“Cum for me,” he growled.

That was all it took for Holly to come crashing down. She cried out loudly, and her nails dug divots into his skin as her body clenched hard around him. She throbbed in tight pulses that never seemed to end, they just dragged on and on, leaving her shaking and whimpering and grabbing at his neck, his shoulders, his hair. She heard him moan, a throaty moan from deep in his chest, and his teeth dug into her bare throat as she felt him shoot deep inside of her, hot and thick, filling her. She covered every inch of him in kisses, loving kisses, needy kisses, and tasted his salty sweat.

They caught their breath. She leaned her head against his chest and listened as his heartbeat slowly spooled down.

Like this, with her body molded into his, Holly felt like they were one being that had split apart long ago. How else to explain the way they fit together so perfectly or how they came together despite all the odds stacked against them?