He growled. “Oh God, sweetheart…I need…I want…” he started, then stopped himself, gritting his teeth.
I opened my mouth to tell him to take whatever he wanted, but I didn’t need to. I saw the moment he decided that for himself. His eyes got hotter, darker, the fierceness moving to a whole new level. A moment later he pulled out, gripped my hips, and flipped me onto my stomach. He arranged me how he wanted me, no asking for permission this time. He lifted my ass in the air, then he rammed into me from behind, taking me how he wanted.
I screamed, biting my pillow. He was big, but from behind, even more so, stretching me to almost the point of pain. The kind of burn that only made the pleasure I was already experiencing that much better. I must have freaked him out, because he stopped, cock buried inside me, fingers digging into my hips.
I couldn’t make my mouth work to tell him I was okay, so I did the only thing I could, I fucked back onto him, telling him what I wanted without words, taking him deeper.
He barked a curse, then he was drilling into me again.
He hit me deep, and I was coming, my walls clamping down on him so damn hard I knew I wouldn’t be the only one seeing stars. He gritted out a rough sound, and still gripping my hips, began fucking me without restraint, powering that huge cock into me, over and over, until I was crying and shaking, clawing at the sheets.
I came twice more before he finally pulled me down onto his cock with force and roared his release, pumping me so full of his come that it was sliding out of me before he’d finished.
When he pulled out, he collapsed to the side, taking me with him. Then he rolled me onto my back, brushed my hair off my face, and stared down at me. He was puffing, his massive chest heaving. I lay limp, like my bones had dissolved.
“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you?”
I managed to shake my head.
His brow creased. “Did I make you feel good, darlin’?”
I’d have thought he was joking, if it weren’t for his serious expression.
I couldn’t help it. I wrapped my fingers around the side of his neck, pulled him down so his face was buried against my throat, and giggled uncontrollably, managing between gasped breaths to get out, “If it’d been any better, I’d be unconscious.”
That’s when I heard it for the first time, that deep, low sound that cut off my giggles and had my heart growing bigger, so big I didn’t know how it was still beating.
Elijah Hays was laughing, and it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard.
Chapter Eight
I parked the tractor in front of the barn and jumped down. The feed was getting low, there was no sign of rain, and I still hadn’t heard from Connor Jacobson about the loan extension. It had only been a few days, I guess, but I got the impression he wasn’t in any hurry to help me out, not after that conversation in his office.
Asshole.
Short of stripping and doing a rain dance, I wasn’t sure what the hell I could do.
I walked around the side of the tractor and toward the training pen…and nearly tripped over my own two feet. Ever since I told him about my troubles with the bank, Eli had upped his training schedule with the horses. The mare was doing really well, and I knew without a doubt she’d bring in a pretty penny. Not just as a cow horse, either. She came from good stock, and if her new owner wanted to get her in foal, those foals would bring top dollar. It’s something my dad and I had wanted to do for as far back as I could remember, but we never quite got there. Not when there were bills waiting to be paid. The short-term turnaround always took precedence. It was how we’d kept this place going. Dad, like Eli, had had a way with horses. The two of them, both training and selling, had allowed us to keep this place afloat. Obviously things had slowed after his death, and as happy I was that Eli was helping me out of the bind I found myself in, I didn’t want him blaming himself or working himself into the ground.
Right now he was on his own horse. Gus was a gentle giant like his owner, and his unruffled nature was perfect in the training pen. The mare was giving him the odd sideways glance, but she wasn’t frightened or dancing away when Eli rode near. She was doing great, had come so far in such a short time.
But what had me tripping and stumbling over my boots was the way Eli looked in the saddle. It never got old. He was born to it.
I headed over, the flutter in my belly increasing the closer I got. His jeans and boots were covered in dust, and his blue T-shirt was plastered to his chest and abs as he rode in a wide circle. He’d turned his cap backward, so I could see his face clearly, the way his lips moved as he talked to his horse, the lines crinkling the corners of his eyes when he gently smiled, pleased with something they did. That smile, small as it was, was breathtaking.