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His red flags were a mile long, flying high for all to see from the very beginning. But red was my favorite color, and I had a stubborn streak a mile long.
“See something you like, cowboy?”
“Yeah, actually… I’m thinking about what it would be like to fuck this pretty mouth. How I’d want to see it dressed in some pretty color only to fucking destroy it and then proudly wear the remnants around my cock so I could see precisely where you’d been.”
“All you girls are too much like your mother,” he grumbled. “Stubborn, headstrong, and a pain in my ass.” I cocked my head to the side. “You just described yourself, old man. Try again.”
“You asked what was wrong with you, and I said there was only one thing.” “And what would that be?” I asked. Lincoln didn’t answer immediately, letting my question hang between us. “You’re not mine.”
Maybe it would’ve been easier to hate him if his chaps didn’t perfectly hug his wrangler-clad ass. How was anyone supposed to get over that? I certainly wasn’t that strong.
“Fuck the leather, fuck the lace. Cheers to the ones who sit on our face!”
He tasted of whiskey and sin and every promise he’d ever made.
My mind was the last hurdle we had to overcome, and I was going to run that bitch over with my truck so we didn’t have to worry about it anymore.
Cry out my name, darlin’. Let them know who owns your pretty little pussy.”
“I want you inside me when I come. So, you’re going to let me take your dick out, and then you’re going to fuck me.”
