Wrangler by Dani Wyatt Page B

the erection pushing for dear life against my zipper.  “I shouldn’t...I mean...I don’t even know...” 
    “I know .  I know enough for us both.”  I let my gaze wander up and down. It’s dark but clear, and the moon gives me just the right amount of light to see every twist and turn of her. I want to discover it all. My horny-as-hell gaze settles on the crease of cleavage that’s on display and I lick my lips.
    I consider tearing that little tank top off with my teeth.  Number one, it’s hiding what has to be the world’s most gravity-defying fucking tits, second, it’s not her.   From the sweet fluttery skirt to the ballet flats, she’s not a low-cut, bedazzled, black tank top kind of girl. And for some irrational reason, it pisses me off that she has to wear it.
    “What do you want then?”  She leans back from me. The fear in her eyes is still there but I feel an excited anticipation radiating from her and that throws fuel on the fire.
    “I want to know how you taste.”  I don’t bother telling her what part of her, but from the way she parts her lips, blinks and swallows I don’t think she’s sure what I mean.  “And I want you to know you are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”
    Her eyes widen and I see doubt and some fear in her eyes.  She doesn’t know her worth, and that amazes me. Her physical beauty is clear, but I feel the beauty inside her as well.  I don’t wait; I lean down, my lips brush hers and I devour the puff of warm, surprised breath that comes out of her mouth, inhaling so that none of it escapes. I want even that part of her. 
    “Say ‘thank you’ now,” I whisper into her mouth, not giving her any time to respond before my lips capture hers.  The sweetness of her runs straight through me like fire on tinder.  I part her lips with my tongue, delving deeper into the wet warmth of her mouth and my head is spinning.
    She lets out an erotic moan into the rumbling growl that erupts from my throat.  I’ve never made a fucking noise like that before.
    “Mmmm,” she murmurs when I pull back, and I watch her face for all the little clues. 
    Her lids are heavy. Even in the moonlight I can see the pink rise in her cheeks and I want to someday see that sort of flush on her whole body.  I’m not taking her tonight; I’ve made that decision. She’ll need time to get used to me before she’s broken in and ready to ride.  “There?  Is that a good enough thank you?”  The words are a bit breathless and the sound is like a cool breeze on a hot day.
    “Not quite.”
    “I don’t even know your name,” she blurts out, but I’m laser-focused on my task.  I flatten my hands on top of her legs, pushing my fingers upward, her skirt catching and exposing the soft flesh as I go.  “Wait, what are you doing?”  The softest hint of panic creeps into her voice, but I hear something else in between the words.  Excitement.
    Need.
    And I know how that feels.
    I roll my torso forward, my face in front of hers. 
    “Lean back.  I just want to see something.  I won’t hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”
    “I don’t know anything about you,” she stutters but she leans back, her hands moving to support her body as she settles against the cotton feed sack behind her.
    “Yes you do.  You know a lot about me.”  I flip the final few inches of her skirt up to her waist, my eyes dropping from her parted, pink lips to see the matching hush of cotton panties covering what’s now mine.  “You watched me tonight as much as I watched you.  You can learn a lot about someone from watching.”
    “I wasn’t watching you.”  She does her best to sound indignant and I stifle my chuckle.
    “See, like right now.”  I drag my fingertips over the slip of fabric between her legs, feeling the warmth and the wetness that’s seeped through.  “You’re watching me.”  I give her a little grin. Even under my thick beard, I know she sees me.
    Fuck, her panties