Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
“Ryland, that’s hot, so hot.” She spreads her legs, baring her wet pink pussy to my view.
“Not as fucking hot as you, Sutton.” I move closer. The backs of her thighs rest on the tops of mine. “You good?” The over-the-counter medicine probably doesn’t take the pain away like the ones prescribed from the doctor, and giving each other mutual orgasms while she recovers from a concussion probably isn’t the smartest. She’s on the tail end of what the doctor says is much-needed rest, and believe me, I’ll be watching for signs and symptoms that could push her backwards in recovery.
“I’d be even better if my fingers were yours.” She tips her head back, eyes shuttering closed, and my eyes move from her face down to her tits, watching as they move with each inhale and exhale, traveling until I see what I’ve been dreaming about.
“Show me, Sutton. Show me how you fuck yourself.” A low whimper leaves her mouth. She works her nipple with one hand, and I make a mental note on how she likes to be touched to file away for later use.
“Ry.” Her eyes open, hooded with need, a need only I can sate. She makes a V with her fingers on either side of the lips of her pussy. I lick my lips, watching her slowly open herself up for me. My tongue, fingers, and cock want inside her right the fuck now. Holding back is damn hard, but watching how she likes to work herself up is hotter than hell.
“Look at you.” I twist my wrist as I slide my fist up and down. My thumb glides over the head, gathering my precum to use it for lube. It’d be a hell of a lot better if Sutton’s wetness were coating me instead.
“Me? You, Ryland. I can’t wait until it’s me doing that to you.” One finger dips inside her center, gathering wetness before circling her clit. Her eyes close, and my hand grips the inside of her thigh in an attempt to hold back the need to rock my hips, moving closer, and either sliding my dick along the seam of her slit or thrusting to the point I’m planted deep in her cunt.
“Sutton,” I groan, tripping up with my movement when I see what she’s doing. Her fingers fast, she is restless, on the verge of going over, and when her fingers slide from her clit to slamming inside herself with two digits, I see how tight her pussy clenches around them.
“I need you, need more.” Her head tosses from side to side against the pillow, sweat is coating her body, and she’s trembling. My spine tingles. Fuck, she’s going to come, and I’m going to do the same, probably at the exact same time.
“If I touch you, I’ll never stop,” I admit, wedging my thighs closer, until her legs are draped over mine.
“I don’t want you to stop touching me.” When I hear the way she moans for me, my hand glides down her thigh. She’s finger-fucking herself, and if my woman needs help, I’m going to be the one to help her. My thumb lands on her clit, feeling her wetness for myself. My eyes close for a moment, trying to hold my shit together, but it’s damn hard when it’s me who is helping her achieve the orgasm she so badly needs and wants.
“Not going to, not now, not ever.” Her orgasm takes hold. It’s a damn good thing I can do two things at once. I keep working my cock, pushing myself right along with her.
“Ryland.” My name leaving her lips is every-fucking-thing.
“Sutton.” Her hand lands on top of mine, helping finish me off. I watch as each rope of cum coats the lips of her pussy, her lower stomach, and her tits. I’m shocked when she dips her fingers into my mess, then she tastes me. “Jesus fucking Christ.” I’m a goner, and my cock is once again ready for a different type of taste of Sutton Rawlins.
FIFTEEN
SUTTON
“Ryland,” I call out his name as I walk out of the bedroom. We’ve created a routine, or maybe they’ve had one all along and brought me into the fold. After the third day, I had to push for him to take Case to and from school. He’d already taken time off from the ranch this week and well into next when I don’t think it’s needed. Ms. Catherine and Russell stop by during the day, and some of the others do as well.
“In the kitchen.” After he wakes up Case in the morning and I make breakfast for the three of us, he drives him to town for preschool, and I do a few things around the house. Today, I abandoned the kitchen in lieu of having an everything shower. It’s too damn cold in Arrowleaf, Wyoming to go to sleep with a wet head of hair. The good news is, I’ve scrubbed my body from head to toe without wincing in pain from bruises. My ribs are still tender, but it’s nothing I can’t breathe through. I shaved, washed my hair, and since the house was empty, I let the conditioner sit in my hair a lot longer than I would have last week. My left wrist is still in a splint, which makes for some awkward maneuvering while showering, but wrapping it in a plastic grocery bag then tying a knot helps keep it from getting wet, and since my body seems to be healing faster than I initially thought it would, I’ve been able to do more for myself and around the house. The only problem is my energy level. I feel like all I do is sleep. One little task, and I’m winded. I’ll be lucky to make it another hour before I’m asleep in the recliner or on the couch. Ryland always insists on me crawling back in bed, except he won’t lie down with me, so I groan and grumble in order to get my way to stay in the living room.