Free MisplacedCowboy by Mari Carr and Lexxie Couper

her off her feet, carried her to the sofa and lowered her
to its cushioned seat. “I want to worship your body with my mouth and tongue
first.”
    And with that, he kneeled over Monet and captured her right
nipple with his mouth. One hand cupped and squeezed the pleasure-heavy swell of
her breast, the other smoothed down her rib cage, over her hip to her thigh. He
tugged her leg upward, off the sofa, wrapping it around his hip as he settled
between her spread thighs. Something long and thick and hard nudged at her
folds and Monet gasped, knowing it was his erection, still contained by his
jeans.
    Oh God, I should…Dylan…stop…Annie…
    The unhinged thought had barely finished whispering through
her mind when Dylan’s mouth left her breast, scoring across the skin of her
chest to lay claim to her other breast. He suckled hard on her nipple, his hand
finding her abandoned breast and kneading with increasing pace. His cock jerked
in his jeans and he pressed it against her sodden sex. She didn’t need to swipe
her fingers over her pussy to know her juices slicked her folds. She’d never
been so aroused. So ready to be fucked.
    “Want…” The word tore from her throat in a choked cry. “Want
you inside me.”
    Dylan hummed against her flesh. “Not yet, love.” He sucked
on her nipple again, mimicking his mouth’s rhythm on her other breast with
pinching fingers. She moaned, pulling him closer to her heat with her leg.
    Or trying to. He wouldn’t let her. Instead, he slid down her
body, his mouth charting a path down the center of her belly to her navel. He
lingered there, his tongue dipping into the shallow well, sending tickling
waves of pleasure radiating out from the point of contact.
    She closed her eyes, trying not to giggle. Giggling simply
wasn’t done in such heightened moments of forbidden pleasure, and that’s what
this was—forbidden. Dylan wasn’t hers and what they were doing shouldn’t be
happening. But the way his tongue explored her bellybutton, the teasing flick
it delivered to her sensitive flesh…it was deliciously wonderful. It tickled
and there was nothing she could do but laugh.
    Dylan hummed his appreciation. “I love the way you laugh,”
he said, his voice deep and husky. As if to show her how much, he dipped his
tongue into her navel again, holding her firm as she squirmed beneath him. She
didn’t just giggle this time, she laughed outright, arching her back as the
most surreal waves of bliss rolled through her. Bliss forged not just by
Dylan’s hands and mouth on her body, but by his humor and personality. She’d
never had a lover want to make her laugh during sex before and she reveled in
the uninhibited, unabashed joy of it, even as her clit throbbed for attention
and her stomach knotted in anticipation.
    “I love the way you make me laugh,” she panted back,
fisting her hands in his hair. She thrust her hips upward, wanting his lips on
her flesh.
    “What if I do this?” he asked, a second before he tugged her
track pants over her hips and off her legs—and lapped at her pussy with his
tongue. From her perineum to her clit. “Do you love that?”
    She wanted to answer him. She really did. She wanted to say, Oh yes, I definitely love that . But she couldn’t. All she seemed capable
of was making some sort of whimpering, hiccupping moan of acquiescence. Especially
when, without waiting for her answer, he did it again.
    Monet rolled her head from side to side and held on tightly
to the sofa. She needed an anchor, a fix point, something to keep her from
washing away in the pleasure rolling through her.
    He circled her clit, flicked it with the tip of his tongue
and then circled it again. All the while, his hands pressed with gentle force
on her inner thighs, spreading her wider. She lay naked before him, a man she’d
known less than twenty-four hours, and couldn’t stop her smile of rapture.
Couldn’t stop her hips rising up to his masterful mouth. Offering herself to
him