“Is it always so dangerous?”
“Riding?” He fought to keep his voice normal and not embarrass himself. God, what was wrong with him? Whenever he actually had the time for it, he loved foreplay. Why was he so goddamn eager to get back inside her? “Hardly ever.”
She didn’t look convinced. “I still think I’ll pass on that form of entertainment. I wasn’t meant to ride a horse.”
“How about a cowboy?” He gripped her hips and slid her along his shaft. “Think you could take on riding one of those? I think there’s a song that encourages such practices.”
“Sounds promising.” She sighed heavily. “If only I knew a willing cowboy.”
He reached out blindly and rummaged through the nightstand she’d pointed out earlier and luckily came up with a condom in short order. “I think you might have found one. Why don’t I saddle up and we’ll take a test ride?”
She grinned and snatched the foil packet out of his hands. “I’m capable of this kind of saddle, I assure you.” She was efficient and quick, not fumbling, but sure and easy with the task. Watching her fingers roll the rubber down his cock had him swelling bigger than he might have ever been before.
Slow down, cowboy. She doesn’t need you to be a rough bronc. Not this go-round. Take your time and show her you’ve got some finesse to you.
Jo wasted no time in holding herself up so she could slide down over him. As her body clamped around him, Trace gritted his teeth. Finesse would be hard won this time around, too.
She picked a rhythm quickly, one that kept him on his toes every step of the way. Just when he thought he had the pace down, she changed it. And each time, he knew she picked up on his frustration because that damn cocky grin would spread over her gorgeous lips and she’d laugh, low and throaty.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“It’s sex. What’s not to enjoy?” She bent down and brushed a kiss to his jaw, changing the angle once more. “If you’re not enjoying it, you’re doing something wrong.”
“I’ll have that one stitched on a pillow.” He tried to take control by thrusting up, but she evaded him and laughed hard and loud.
“Stitched on a pillow.” She looked down at him, her raven black hair spreading around her shoulders like a cape. “I’m going to remember that one. I like a man who’s witty in bed. So much more fun.”
He wasn’t sure he liked being compared to other men. But then again, he was coming out on top, so he shrugged it off and thrust once more into her wet heat. This time she stayed put, letting him, before taking charge another moment later.
“One of us is going to have to stay in the driver’s seat.”
She bit her lip. “Eventually. But the whole back-and-forth is doing it for me.” She swiveled her hips instead of pumping up and down, making a circular motion over his pelvis. Trace’s eyes wanted to roll back in his head at the feeling. God, she was something.
He loved a little bed play, but he was going to lose his fucking mind if she kept that up. And then he’d embarrass himself and shit knew he didn’t need that. Proactivity time.
Reaching down, he found the bare, silken skin of her mons and massaged with his thumbs. The way her eyes widened, then drooped a little, he knew he’d hit a winner. Soon, she was rhythmically seeking his hands and their touch, which meant she was thrusting down on his cock at a speed he definitely wanted.
But she would never come like that. To add some fuel to the fire, one thumb slid down into her wetness and found her clit. He massaged in slow—achingly slow—circles. Jo’s eyes closed and she leaned back on her hands, back arching like a dancer’s to accommodate the position.
“Oh, my God,” she moaned. “That feels so … so good.”
“If it doesn’t feel good, you’re doing it wrong,” he said, tossing her words back at her.
She grinned in acknowledgment at the hit, but didn’t open her eyes.
She was a goddess, he decided. No, not quite. A nymph. A city nymph who landed in the country with too much polish and nerves of steel to match. His own personal nymph.
And he wanted her to be his. Over and over again … Whoa. Too much, too soon. He slowed down, both mentally and physically. Time to slam on the brakes with that theory.
Jo raised herself back up. “Problem?”
“I can’t see your face.” He motioned with his head and she came down over him, breasts pushing into his chest, face inches away from his. “I want to see your face when you come.”
“Here I am.” She kissed him hard, tongue tangling with his. And she moved against his hand, along his shaft, until he was mentally cursing again.