Page 73 of Forbidden Cowboy

“Stop looking at me like that,” Wyatt groaned, “just touch me, okay?”

I stalked forward to straddle his hips again. I could feel the prominent bulge already beginning to press into my core. Devilishly, I ground down on it, and kissed him on the lips at the same time. I held onto his face, and kissed him twice more.

“I can look at my fiancé however I like,” I said, “and I just wanted to take a moment to appreciate how handsome he is.”

“Oh, you have a fiancé now, do you?”

“Mm,” I said with a smile, “he’s alright, I guess.”

Wyatt scoffed indignantly, and I laughed fully.

“You brought me here for sex and now you’re saying I’m just ‘alright’? I feel used.”

“You big baby,” I said playfully, kissing him again.

I pushed myself down again so I could feel him straining through the fabric of his boxers and my own underwear. God, I wanted him. I wanted him almost more than that first night in New York.

“You promised to take me back to New York,” I said.

“And I will,” he said. “But please end my suffering.”

I did as he asked, raising myself just enough so that he could pull himself free of his boxers, and I could pull my own underwear to the side long enough for him to line himself up before I sunk down.

Sitting on his cock was different now, the stretch wasn’t quite as intensely full, but he feltdeeper, and I couldn’t say I minded the change. I rocked my hips, riding him slowly.

“When—ah—are we going to go?” I asked.

“Oh, God, Sierra, why are you asking me now?”

“I want—mm—to know,” I groaned.

“I—uhh—our honeymoon,” he ground out, and then he lost his patience with me.

That bruising feeling of his hands on my hips had been sorely missed as he took charge, and flipped us so that we were both on the bed, him over me as he began to take control.

“So fucking talkative,” he grunted, “when all I wanna do is fuck you.”

“You—huh—didn’t seem too concerned—before,” I stuttered out.

“You drive me crazy, how could you think I’d want to talk about New York at a time like this?”

“I wanted you to remember how you screwed me then. How you made me moan your name for the first time, how you—”

I was cut off as my voice rose higher into a whine.

“I remember,” he said, moving faster, setting up an erratic rhythm, and moving one hand from my hip to thumb at my sensitive clit. “I remember how you looked, so good for me, taking everything I gave you, even though you were avirgin. Do you know how good it feels to know that I’m the only person that has ever seen you like this? The only one that ever will?”

I keened around his fingers, moaning and clenching my walls as I felt my impending orgasm rear up. He hadn’t even touched my chest, and yet everything felt so overwhelmingly sensitive, I thought I might die if he did. I was grateful he stuck to the ministrations on that sensitive bundle of nerves. When my orgasm hit, I felt weeks of pressure and sleepless nights and stress about being a new parent melt away under the one true certainty of being his.

He was mine and I was his, and nothing would ever change that.

Epilogue: Wyatt

Ihad the tickets on my phone.

She didn’t know, because she thought I’d forgotten. It had been almost two and a half years since I had promised her once more that we would go back to New York, and she didn’t know. She thought we were going somewhere in Indonesia. Bali, I think I told her. She also thought we were leaving the kids, even though she dreamed of taking them on holiday with us.

She hadn’t arrived yet, but I knew she would soon. The band was already playing something calm, but the kids were dancing in that peculiar bouncy way that children do. Charlotte had purple flowers in her hair, and a matching dress with purple wisteria embroidered on it. Noah and Carter, who had turned out to be identical twins with completely opposing personalities, were wearing the tiniest suits I had ever seen, with little lilac pocket squares sticking up from their chest pockets. The three of them all had red hair, to my delight, but where Charlotte’s was the same fiery red as her mother and uncle, Noah and Carter had inherited some curly auburn locks that Sierra had refused to cut for much longer than their first year. Only when the boys’ hair was almost touching their shoulders, and brushing it was becoming more of a hassle than anything, had Sierra let me hire a hairdresser to come in and clean them up.