CHAPTER 90

west

W e were about two feet in the door before his mouth was on mine. His adrenaline and excitement from the night bled through me. His tongue swept over mine as I used the front of his shirt to drag him close.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his mouth barely leaving mine. I pulled him back in for another kiss and enjoyed the way he groaned. Kissing him with that damn hat was a feat. Fuck the damn cowboy hat rules the girls insisted I learned. I knocked it off his head and tangled my fingers in his hair. “West… I ain’t going to be around tomorrow…”

I understood his concern—I did—but I didn’t want him second-guessing me. I hated how that was even a thing.

“Yeah, I’m fucking sure, cowboy,” I said and dragged his shirt over his head. I ran my hands over his sides and muscular back with a newfound appreciation as he kissed me once more.

“For the record, I ain’t prepared for this,” Jackson told me as I walked him back toward the bed. His knees hit the bed, and he fell back, catching himself on his elbows. Fuck, he looked good like that—hair a mess, chest heaving, and the hunger in his eyes matching mine. My cock strained behind my zipper.

“Good thing I am,” I replied while grabbing lube out of my bag. Yeah, I’d packed it in case. Honestly, I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing anymore. My body was in uncontrolled chaos. Some days the idea of doing anything with Jackson had me hard and damn near close to coming. On other days, it made me want to hop on a horse and run away. I was just stuck for the ride.

But I was trying like fuck to embrace the ride. I wasn’t good at it, but sometimes I could make it work in my favor.

“Pants off, cowboy,” I ordered. As I pulled my shirt over my head, Jackson undid his belt and opened his pants. Watching him strip naked had my cock aching. I wanted him so fucking badly, and I wanted not to fuck this up. I didn’t want to be the reason he couldn’t focus on his second ride.

I focused on him as I got undressed—on the miles of muscles he’d molded for himself. On the slight spattering of golden chest hair he had. On just how goddamn blue his eyes were. Jesus fuck, he was handsome.

“What’re you thinking over there, baby?” Jackson asked gruffly.

“A lot of things,” I told him honestly. There were a lot of things tumbling through my head, but I couldn’t pinpoint a single one of them if I tried.

Instead, I crawled over him as I gently pushed him back on the bed. I kissed the curve of his hip and swept my tongue over his abs. He tasted like sweat and smelled like leather. The combination was oddly intoxicating. The rough pads of his fingers trailed over my arms, sending a shiver down my spine.

I kissed my way up his neck and scraped my teeth over his ear lobe, enjoying the groan he let out. His fist tangled in my hair, and he dragged my mouth to his, his tongue driving through my lips—hungry and demanding.

“ Fuck ,” I rasped when his hand wrapped around my dick and his. My hips thrust forward, driven by a desperate need for more. Root to tip, he stroked both of us in long passes. Pre-cum leaked from his cock and mine, sticking to our stomachs. My nerves were a livewire and sparked with his every touch. I admitted breathlessly, “I want you. ”

“Your stables, your rules, West,” Jackson reminded me, his tone gentle. With anyone else, that phrase would’ve been condescending. But with him? It weirdly grounded me—gave me a sense of control that I needed. “Whatever you want, baby, just tell me.”

I kissed him hard as I swiped the lube off the nightstand. Deep down, I was terrified that I’d lose it again if I waited too long—if I drew it out.

Before I could do anything, he took it from me. I shuddered at the cool sensation of his hand as he slathered my dick. My head dropped to his shoulder with a loud moan.

“You keep doing that…” I gasped out, unable to finish the sentence. The small chuckle he let out as he got comfortable underneath me shot straight to my balls. God, I loved that sound. “You’re going to be the end of me, cowboy.”

“I sure as hell hope not,” Jackson muttered. “Not with all the damn horses you’ve brought home.”

His legs hitched around my hips as I lined myself up and slowly pressed the head of my cock past that tight ring of muscles. His groan matched mine for very different reasons. I rocked into him, pulling in and out almost completely each time as I pushed a little deeper with each thrust. I took my time as the sensations washed over me. That familiar tug—dark and threatening—ebbed its way through my brain.

“I’m okay,” I let out, my voice strained. Fuck, he was so goddamn tight. It was so much. Too much. “I’m okay.”

Lifting off the pillow, he kissed me. His teeth dragged lightly over my lower lip, and his tongue danced with mine. His taste, his scent, his touch. He was overwhelmingly intoxicating without doing a damn thing.

“God, you feel so goddamn good,” Jackson whispered.

“Keep talking, cowboy,” I practically begged. I needed his voice to ground me.

”Do you want to stop?” he asked.

“No.” I shook my head. “Just… keep talking. I want this… I just…”

I just needed help keeping the demons at bay—needed something to cling to that wasn’t in my own head.

“Keep going, baby,” he ordered, gentle but firm. His fingers wove through my hair and tightened slightly. Just enough to keep my gaze on his. “Eyes on me, West.”

I did as he told me, letting him be the clarity I needed to hold my headspace. Adjusting my weight, I braced myself and gripped his hip as I picked up my pace.

“That’s it, baby,” Jackson whispered. “A little faster for me.”

I drove into him faster like he asked while he lifted his legs a little higher on my sides. The sound he made was a goddamn aphrodisiac, going straight to my balls.

My gaze flicked down between our bodies as he fisted his cock. I watched with rapt fascination as he stroked himself. Fuck me, why was that so hot?

“Do you like watching me stroke myself while you fuck me, West?” he asked. I caught his mouth in a heated kiss, using that to verbalize what I couldn’t. “Faster, baby.”

I did so eagerly, needing some kind of release. The heat in my spine was fucking unbearable, molten hot and threatening to ruin me. His hand matched my pace until he was coming in thick spurts across his stomach and mine.

“Fuck, cowboy, I’m…” I squeezed my eyes shut as my release became too much to cling onto.

“Don’t close your eyes, West,” he said quickly. “Eyes on me when you come.”

That blue gaze became my anchor as I tipped over the ledge. My muscles seized up painfully tight as I drove deep inside him, coming hard. A jumbled mess of swears fell off my lips as the intense waves crashed over me endlessly until I was spent and damn near shaking.

But I was okay.

I was more than okay.

I mostly felt good—a little disoriented but good.

I was okay.

“You did so goddamn good, baby,” Jackson praised, his lips brushing against mine in simple kisses. “You good?”

I nodded, consumed and drowning in the intense emotions washing over me. My forehead tipped to his as I breathed him in and tried to find the words to tell him how I felt. But every time I opened my mouth, nothing came out.

Those were words I didn’t know how to say.