Fuck fuck fuck.

Why did I let him do that?

No, scratch that. Why did I do that? I don’t even know who kissed who, it all happened so fast. It felt impossible, irresistible. One minute I stood there having a perfectly normal conversation with Ruckus, and the next, those big hands of his were all over me, and his strong, muscular body was pressed against mine, and Christ, I could feel his cock through his jeans and it made me wet as hell just to think what a man like him, with a cock like that, could do to me… He’d take me rough if I wanted it, bend me over that examination table and fuck me until I could hardly walk straight.

Just thinking about it sends another shiver of desire through my body, so strong it’s hard to focus. Right. Doctor. Injury. Ruckus’s face when that bull reared back, about to stomp him, keeps playing in the back of my mind. I don’t know what came over me. All I knew was that I couldn’t see him hurt. Not the man I’m hired to protect.

Not the man I’m coming to care about either.

I couldn’t help it. I leapt straight into that ring without thinking about my own safety, without any idea of what I was gonna do once I got down there except yell and scream and chase that bull away from him. At the last second I remembered watching old bull fight videos and thought to use my jacket, but it was a close call. If I hadn’t thought of that, well…

I shake my head. Doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is that Ruckus is safe and whole, and fuck can he ever kiss like the devil himself. My mouth still burns from contact with his, and every time I blink I swear I feel his thick calloused hands on the small of my back, tracing my neck, my shoulders…

“Doc!” I startle as I run across just the man I supposedly left Ruckus to go find. In reality, I just couldn’t stay in that exam room one more second. I would’ve let Ruckus do whatever he wanted to me. Would’ve let him strip off my jeans and fuck me until I screamed so loudly that everyone in the medical building knew I was getting fucked, and I wouldn’t have even cared.

What is wrong with me? Up until now, waiting until marriage has been the easiest part of my personal rules. I’ve been attracted to plenty of guys, sure, but I’d never even been tempted to let them go farther than fooling around in my truck. I have rules, boundaries, and I never let anybody cross those.

Until Ruckus swung his way into my life.

“I was wondering if you could check in on Ruckus again, see if he’s ready to be released,” I say, grinning through the bright red flush on my cheeks.

The doc, on the other hand, frowns at me like I’m crazy. “Of course he’s ready. I just walked him out a minute ago.”

I glance back over my shoulder, confused. I must have gotten turned around. Wandering through these hallways distracted by the thoughts of that kiss. “Oh. Well, thanks.” A sudden, terrible thought springs to mind. I remember our other rules. The plan for the evening that we agreed to before he got into that ring. No drinking. He can’t go to a bar right now. “Do you know where he’s headed?”

“Back to the ring, I think. A lot of the guys get together after the show, go out on the town, you know.” The doc is playing with the stethoscope around his neck. “Normally I’d tag along, but I’ve got a few more cases of bad whiplash to look at…”

I drown out his next words, my mind already racing ahead. “Thanks, Doc!” I call over my shoulder as I sprint for the doors.

I know all too well what the rodeo guys get up to when they go out on the town. And I’m not about to let Ruckus go down that path. Not after everything he’s been through today.

I think, not for the first time since I saw it, about the tattoo on his chest. The meaning behind it. He got that tattoo for his father, after he died. I wonder when that was. I wonder if I checked the obits, whether it might line up perfectly with the time two years ago when Ruckus went from a star rodeo champion who liked to party to being the notorious troublemaker bar-fighting cowboy that half the shows on the rodeo circuit were leery about hiring.

I’m not going to let him do that to himself again tonight.

The whole way to the rodeo ring, I keep replaying his words in my head. Family meant everything to him. He always wanted me to have a family. Maybe there’s more to the notorious Rudolph Ruckus than I thought.

When I finally reach the ring, though, the guys are already loading into another competitor’s car.

“Hey, you’re the new girl right? Another field manager?” one of the cowboys calls to me. “We’re headed to the watering hole down the road if you wanna join.”

“Ruckus with you?” I call back, trying to keep my voice light and even.

He snickers, then wiggles his eyebrows. “No, but I can give you plenty of ruckus myself, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

I snort and roll my eyes. “Move along, cowboy,” I shout, already turning away from that truckload. Okay, so not there. Maybe he left already? Maybe he’s already at said watering hole breaking rule number one?

Or maybe…

I stride into the now quiet stadium. With the lights out and half the gates open, and only a few janitors picking through the messy wasteland that the spectators left behind, it looks like a completely different world in here. I skirt the stands, following my instincts—and my nose—toward the distant stables out back.

Sure enough, when I push through the back gate into the rear stables, where all the horses and the bulls are kept, I spy a familiar silhouette ahead of me, outlined by the rising full moon.

Ruckus stands on the pen in which his horse and a few of his fellow competitors’ are grazing. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t call his horse over or move to climb into the pen with them. He just watches the horses pick their way across the field. In an hour or so, the stable hands will come and round them up. Put them to bed for the night. But for the time being, for just this brief moment when they aren’t performing or dozing or being fed, I’m reminded of what these horses really are.

Wild animals. Creatures just like us, with hopes and dreams of their own.

I sidle up to Ruckus as quietly as I can, but he must hear me coming anyway, because without turning around, the moment I’m within earshot, he says, “Beautiful, ain’t they?”

“Gorgeous.” I grab the fence beside him and pull myself up onto until we’re almost even in height. “Which one is yours?” They all look similar in the dim and the moonlight.

But sure enough, Ruckus points him out in a heartbeat. Staring at the jet-black stallion, I can see the resemblance to the tattoo on Ruckus’s chest—and also to Ruckus himself, with his wild dark hair and big, serious eyes.

Eyes that train on me now, the moon reflected in them.

“Do you ride?” he asks me. “I know you work the circuit, but…”

I shake my head, an embarrassed flush creeping up my neck. “Never. I love them, don’t get me wrong—always have loved animals of every kind. But I grew up in the city, and my parents couldn’t afford riding lessons or anything fancy like that. I got into the rodeo because I wanted to be around them, wanted to experience this life.” I wave a hand toward the field, but I mean so much more. The road, the small towns we visit and perform in, the country life. Everything seems so much simpler out here.

Usually, I think, with a hot flare of desire as Ruckus leans closer to me, and his leg grazes mine.

“But now, I’m older, and… well… I don’t know, probably too old to learn.”

He barks out a laugh. “No such thing.” With that, he hops the fence in one smooth motion, and offers me a hand over. I hesitate. He must see that in my face, because he arches a brow and skewers me with that far-too-knowing gaze of his. “Come on. I’ll show you.” Then his voice drops, lower. “You don’t have to be embarrassed around me, Sheila.”

The unexpected sound of my name in his baritone, Southern drawl makes my cheeks flush hotter. Before I can think better of it, I’m placing my hand in his and swinging a leg over the fence. I leap toward the ground, but he catches me halfway down, both hands tight around my waist, his hands so large they almost entirely encircle my waist. He sets me lightly on the ground at his feet, and it’s hard to catch my breath, even though I barely moved.

Then he’s striding away from me, toward the horses, and I jog to keep up, forcing my brain to focus on the present. Not on how good Ruckus’s ass looks in those jeans he’s wearing, or on the way he confidently steps up to his horse and gently pats the stallion’s nose, at the same time slipping something from his pocket to let the horse munch on.

“His favorite,” Ruckus explains, showing me the half of an apple he’s extending.

Sure enough, the horse swallows that whole, crunching down with apparent delight before he shifts his head to nuzzle against Ruckus’s cheek.

Never thought I’d be jealous of a horse before.

“You try.” Ruckus offers me the apple, and I extend a hand, nervously. “Steady,” he advises.

I hold my hand flat. Then I laugh with delight as the stallion laps the apple straight out of my hand, his tongue warm and soft on my palm.

“See? That’s not so scary.”

“I never said I was scared,” I protest.

“Good.” Ruckus’s teeth gleam in the moonlight as he grins at me, and I worry I’ve just walked into a trap. “Then up you get. We’re going for a ride.”

Dammit. My knees tense and my breath hitches. I definitely walked into that trap. “At this hour?” I say, trying to stall.

“You did tell me I wasn’t allowed to drink myself stupid tonight,” he points out. “Or fight anybody. Or fuck anybody either.” His voice drops at that, and he steps closer to me, until I can feel the chilly evening air heat up between us. “Unless you’d like to revise one of those options, give me a little leeway…” His hand brushes my shoulder, ever so lightly. Trails down my arm, and leaves an earthquake of shivers in his wake.

I suck in a deep breath and force a scowl. “I told you. I’m not breaking the rules.”

He just keeps grinning at me, all too knowing, damn him. “Then what other option do I have for entertainment? A night ride it is. Come on.” He makes his hands into a stirrup and offers it to me. “Leg up.”

I glare at him for a moment longer. But when it becomes apparent that I won’t be able to scowl or bargain my way out of this one, I finally sigh and kick my leg up until the sole of my foot rests in his hands.

“Now stand up,” he says. “I’ve got you,” he adds when I shoot him a dubious look.

I place both hands on the stallion’s back for balance and let Ruckus hoist me up. When my hips are even with the horse’s back, I swing my free leg over his rump, until I find myself sitting on the horse’s bare back, legs clamped tight on either side of him.

“There you go,” he says, a grin in his tone. “Clench with your thighs, you’ve got it. You’re a natural.” I watch him feed a bit into the horse’s mouth before he hoists himself up onto the horse’s back behind me.

“It’s high up,” I point out, unable to keep a tremor from my voice.

“He’s eighteen hands,” Ruckus says. “If you can ride this bad boy bareback, then you can handle just about anything.”

I gulp. “But, we’re not going to go fast, right?”

“Of course not.” His arms circle my waist then, and he pulls me back against him, until we’re crushed together atop the horse. I can feel every inch of Ruckus’s muscular body behind me. His abs, his pecs against my shoulders, and, against my ass, the tight dig of his hips.

Somehow, that feeling of him behind me, enveloping me, makes me feel safer.

At least a little bit. Then he kicks the horse’s flanks, and I gasp and reach down to grip Ruckus’s thighs, staying clear of where he was injured. He laughs into my hair as he steers the horse toward the open gate at the far end of the paddy, where a stable hand just stepped inside to refill the water troughs.

“Pardon us,” Ruckus calls, and the boy jumps aside as we jog past.

I know the jog is the slowest gait, and I know too that Ruckus won’t push his horse harder than he ought to with us both on top. Still, I have to gulp back my nerves when we reach open air, and Ruckus steers the horse toward a trail ahead of us, one that winds away from the stadium, up a nearby hill through the trees.

“Is this really the best idea?” I ask, finally finding my voice. Still, I maintain that tight grip on Ruckus’s thighs, my heart in my throat as we pick up speed into a trot.

“Trust me,” Ruckus whispers against my neck, his voice a warm whisper against my skin. And despite myself, despite all my fears and misgivings, I realize…

I do.

* * *

I lose track of how long we ride for. All I can focus on are the sensations of the horse underneath us, and Ruckus’s arms around me, one hand on the reins, the other tight around my waist, pinning me against him. At some point, I finally get used to the sensation enough to allow myself to relax, sinking back against Ruckus and letting my body roll with the movements of the horse as we pad through the woods.

Of course, that’s not the only sensation I notice. With every step and arch of the horse’s back, Ruckus’s hips glide against mine. I can feel the hard press of his hardening cock against the small of my back, and I don’t doubt he’s just as distracted as I am by this ride. I arch my own back and slide against him, making sure to wiggle my hips side-to-side just enough that he’ll feel it. I’m rewarded by a sharp inhale, and his arms tighten around me.

He wants me just as badly as I want him.

I try to remind myself of my rules. The carefully-laid plans I had for all of this. The rules that I never break—the ones I’ve never even been tempted to sway from before.

Then I think about him, and all those rules seem stupid. Like a fantasy from another world that doesn’t matter.

What’s real is the hard press of his body against my back, the warm, solid scent of his that envelops me as we ride—he smells like hay and pine and sweat and masculine in a way that makes me want to just turn right around and kiss him again, feel the way his rough stubble grazes my cheek as his mouth captures mine.

The scenery around us doesn’t help keep me grounded in reality. It looks like something out of a forest fairy tale. We wind farther and farther up the horse-beaten path, until we’re so far into the woods I can’t even see the lights of the town or the stadium behind us anymore. All we hear is the soft whisper of the wind through the trees, the padding of the horse’s hooves, and the occasional whistle or call of night owls in the trees.

Then the trees part, and we stride into a clearing, lit by the full moon, a soft bed of grass that stretches in front of us, soft and inviting.

“What do you think?” Ruckus whispers against my neck, the first words either of us have said in ages. “Good time for a break?”

Without waiting for my response, he dismounts in a single easy motion, then offers a hand up to me. I take considerably longer to climb down, my legs stiff from the ride and my body far too distracted by the way Ruckus’s big hands circle my waist as he catches me on the drop. He lowers me to the ground, and doesn’t let go. I spin in his arms to study the intense expression in his eyes. Every part of me yearns to give in. To lean closer to him. Surrender.

Instead, with a painful twang, I force myself to step backward. Away.

Hurt flashes across his eyes for a second. Then he chases it away with that grin of his, the lopsided one that makes me think about how he’d look poised above me, head between my thighs, about to kiss his way down to my already wet pussy…

I clench my teeth hard against the image.

“Still all about those rules, huh Sheila?” he murmurs.

Then, without warning, he drops to one knee in the grass.

Unable to help myself, I laugh and grab at his hand to pull him upright. “What are you doing?”

He circles my wrist with one large hand. With his other, he plucks a long blade of grass. “I wasn’t kidding before. When I suggested that way around your rules. You’re a good woman, Sheila, and God knows I’ve met few and far between of those, and none of them quite like you.” He winds the blade of grass around my ring finger. My left ring finger. “I get the whole no drinking or fighting rules, I do. And I respect the way you stick to your guns, the way you follow your own rules. So I want to do this thing right.”

He finishes tying the grass onto my finger. It makes a neat little bow. A ring. When those dark eyes of his catch mine again, I swear it takes every ounce of self-control in me not to drop to my knees and pull his mouth to mine. Then he says it. The words that make me almost unable to believe my ears. “Sheila Greyson, will you marry me?”

I can’t help it. I laugh. But his expression doesn’t waver. And his grip on my hand only tightens.

So I follow my instincts. I drop to my knees in the grass before him and reach up with my other hand to circle it around his neck. Lean in until we’re nose-to-nose in the clearing, nobody to hear us but each other. “You must have really hit your head hard in that fall, Rudolph Ruckus,” I tell him, still grinning.

He smirks right back. “Probably. You should take advantage of my momentary sanity, before I lose it again in the next fall.”

“Only if you promise to take advantage of my lapse of judgment,” I reply, leaning forward until our lips are a breath apart.

“Is that a yes, Ms. Greyson?”

My smile widens. “That’s a very big we’ll see, Mr. Ruckus.” With that, his lips crash into mine and I forget about everything else. The rules. The job I’m supposed to do. All of it.

All I can see is him.

He lifts me up off the grass and flips us both over, rolling until he’s on top of me. The grass feels softer than any of the motel beds I’ve slept in lately, and the scent mingles with his as I grab the back of his head, weaving my fingers through his hair as we kiss.

We break apart just far enough for him to grin down at me, his eyes hooded. “I’ve wanted to claim you since the minute I laid eyes on you, Sheila,” he murmurs as his hands run down my sides, tracing my curves, digging into my waist, my hips, then sliding under me to grip my ass hard.

“Only if you promise not to be gentle with me, cowboy,” I murmur back, then grin and catch his lower lip between my teeth, biting down lightly.

He growls at the back of his throat when we part, one hand sliding around to grasp the hem of my shirt. “You like it rough?” In one swift motion, he yanks my shirt up and over my head. Tosses it to the grass beside us, and leans down to kiss and nip his way down my neck to my chest. He bites my nipple through the fabric of my bra, just hard enough to make me gasp and arch my back up to meet his touch. “Well, you came to the right man. And now…” He grins up at me and reaches around to unclasp my bra. Leans down to circle his tongue over my nipple, hot and wet in the cool night air. He sucks my nipple until it hardens, then gently runs his teeth across the tip, the sensation driving me wild, sending spikes through my veins. “You’re all mine. And I’m going to make you come for me all night, my girl.”

He trails his lips and tongue lower, down the flat plane of my stomach. I take advantage of the momentary return of my senses to grip his shirt in return. I yank it off, and trace my hands over his back, his shoulders, marveling at the heat that radiates from his bare skin, the strength that ripples through his muscles as he inches lower and lower down my stomach.

At the hem of my jeans, he pauses to kiss my hips, then bite along my hipbones, just hard enough that I squirm. He uses that momentum to wriggle my jeans off my body, until only the thin line of my panties separates me from him.

I wish I could shred those panties into a thousand pieces, to get him inside me faster. “Fuck me, Ruckus. I want to feel you inside me,” I gasp.

But he only clicks his tongue, smirking. “Not so fast, Sheila. We’re only just getting started.” He slides back up my body to lean over me, as one hand trails between my thighs until he reaches my panties. He strokes two fingers along my panties, on the outside, and his eyebrows rise at what he feels. “You’re wet already, dirty little girl. Enjoying thinking about what I’ll do to you?” He slips one finger under the panties. Strokes it along the outer lips of my pussy, which sends a shiver through my whole body. “I’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time. About how I’d like to fuck you.”

My eyes flash in the moonlight, and I twist my hips upward, forcing his fingers closer to my pussy. An ache spreads through to my clit, making it feel swollen with want. I’ve never felt like this before. Never wanted anyone inside me so badly. “And how do you imagine it?” I manage to ask, through clenched teeth as I try to fight the lust that rages through my body. “How do you picture fucking me?”

“Hmm… So many different ways.” In one swift motion, he grips my hips with both hands and flips me over so I’m on all fours. He yanks my panties down, and his finger is back, stroking along the edges of my pussy lips. Then he slides it between them, stroking along my slit, slowly, careful not to touch my clit yet, not even when I rock back against him with a faint groan of desire. “I think about fucking you on all fours. Bent over that exam table in the doctor’s office, maybe.” His finger finally touches my clit, and I cry aloud with the sensation. I’m sensitive as hell from desire, and his finger gently rubbing along my clit makes my veins catch fire.

Then he withdraws his hand, and I gasp in protest. Before I can say a word, though, he grabs my waist and flips me around again, this time crushing me against him, drawing me onto his lap. I can feel his hard cock between us, straining against his jeans. I rock against him, and now it’s his turn to groan through his teeth, hot with desire for me, his cock straining at the seams.

He grins at me, our mouths inches apart. “I think about you riding me, as hard and fast as I ride in the ring.”

I reach down between us and undo the button of his jeans. Push the zipper down, and try to wriggle them off his hips. “Then let’s try that one.”

He tilts his head, as though considering. At the same time, he rocks up against me, and I moan as his cock digs into my clit, hard through the fabric of his jeans. “Maybe,” he muses, and I almost pant, white hot with want. “But for the first time, I think…” He sits upright and flips me one last time. Lays me back down along the grass, completely naked, and spreads my legs so he’s between them. “I think I like the traditional way,” he murmurs, before he kisses me, unexpectedly slow and soft. When he draws back, his eyes are so hot I swear they could sear my skin, the way he gazes down at me in the dim light. “This way, I can feel every inch of you.” He runs his hands up my sides to my breasts, my shoulders, my neck, then back down. “And I get to watch your face when I make you come,” he adds with a wicked grin.

With that, he peels his jeans off and slides back between my legs. We’re both completely naked now, and I can’t stop myself from drinking in the sight of his body above me—the hot as hell planes of his cut abs, his chiseled body, his strong thighs… And the glorious, long, thick cock between them.

A cock that makes me tremble, half from excitement and half from worry. Can I handle him? He’s so big. I reach down with both hands and my eyes widen when I feel his width for the first time. I slide my hands along the velvety soft smoothness, and savor that feeling combined with the hard shaft beneath. I’ve never had sex with anyone before—I’ve seen ex-boyfriend’s cocks, of course, but in passing, as we fooled around in cramped cars.

And nobody’s compares to Ruckus’s.

“God, you’re so big,” I murmur, tightening my hands just a little, and enjoying the way I can see the pleasure dart across his face, his lips parting ever so slightly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll start out easy,” he replies, leaning down to kiss me, harder this time.

“Don’t go easy on me,” I protest, but that’s before he slides a hand between my legs and presses a finger against my entrance. Then I tense up, nerves taking over, and his smile turns knowing.

“Trust me,” he murmurs against my lips.

I let myself relax, at that. Then he presses his finger into me, and I gasp, but only because fuck he feels good. I arch my hips, sway with him, as he gazes down at me like I’m the most magical, beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He adds a second finger, and starts to rock them inside me, back and forth. At the same time, I keep my hands clasped around the solid shaft of his cock and start to stroke him as well. At first it’s easy, but when he presses a third finger inside me, I lose all focus and concentration. I can’t keep my hands wrapped around him, can’t even focus on anything but the pleasure and the sweet aching stretch inside me as his fingers plunge into my pussy, over and over.

The pressure starts to build, and then he adds his thumb, swirling it across my clit with every other stroke, until my body feels like it’s on fire. I rock my hips up, thrusting against him, groaning behind my teeth.

“Patience, dirty girl,” he scolds me, voice low in the cool evening air.

Then, just as I’m nearing the peak, when the climax is within sight, he withdraws his hand entirely. I gasp, feeling empty, unfulfilled. But he grasps my legs with both hands, wraps them around his waist, and positions his cock at my entrance instead.

I swallow hard and gaze up at him through lowered eyelids.

“Tell me what you want, Sheila,” he murmurs.

“You,” I gasp.

“More specific.” He grins. Taunting me. Damn him, he’s enjoying this.

I lick my lips and try to get my head under control. To think at least somewhat straight. “I want you to fuck me, Ruckus,” I say.

That appears to be the right answer. He arches his hips forward, and the tip of his cock slips between my pussy lips. I’m already soaked, and that helps as he keeps pressing forward, a steady, slow pressure that builds as his cock glides into me, farther and farther, past my lips, stretching me wider than I’ve ever been stretched before.

I cry aloud now, my head falling back against the cool grass.

“God you’re so fucking tight,” he growls under his breath, eyes flashing with hot desire as he keeps moving, pressing into me farther and farther.

Finally, he lays down along me, chest pressed to mine, abs rock hard against my soft stomach. His cock is fully inside me now, my pussy at once aching and hungry at the sensation of being filled like this, stuffed to the brim. He makes me feel whole, complete. And I want more.

Thankfully, he doesn’t seem able to resist me either. I arch my hips up, and at the same time, he draws back and thrusts back inside me, a little faster this time. I gasp at the renewed sensation, the feel of his thick cock straining my walls.

“You have a perfect pussy, Sheila,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss my lips, then my jawline, then the soft spot right under my ear. “So fucking perfect.” His breath is hot on my cheek as he starts to rock back and forth, building up a rhythm. As his cock thrusts in and out of me, his hipbone grinds against my pelvis, making my already swollen clit tingle and ache for release.

Before long, he’s fucking me hard, his hips driving into mine. I rise up to meet him at every thrust, tightening my legs around his waist and digging my hands into his back for balance. It doesn’t take long before we’re both gasping hard. His balls slap against my pussy lips with every deep thrust, and the tip of his cock drags along my inner walls, stroking right over my G-spot every time, until the pressure builds inside me, impossible to resist.

“I’m going to come,” I hear myself gasp, and Ruckus’s chest rumbles with his low laugh.

“I promise it won’t be the only time tonight.” He bites down on my earlobe, gentle, then draws back and grabs my ass underneath him, lifting my hips up to angle me toward his cock. At that angle, he pounds into me harder, and the tip of his cock drives along my G-spot, until my body bucks against him of its own accord, and I can’t do anything but ride along, driven wild by the sensations.

“Fuck. Ruckus,” I cry out his name, loud enough that it echoes in the dim woods, but I don’t care. All I can feel or sense is the orgasm that rips through me, like a flood that takes over my veins.

Nobody has ever made me come before, least of all like this.

By the time the orgasm rides through me, my limbs feel fuzzy and my head spins. But just like he promised, he doesn’t stop there. He slides a hand down between us, one finger gently circling around my clit, already sensitive from my first orgasm. He keeps driving into me, faster, and at the same time strokes my clit with his finger, until I can’t help but feel the pressure spike inside me again. I clamp my thighs hard around his waist, arch my hips up to let him have me, take whatever he wants from me.

My head twists to the side, but his voice, deep and urgent, growls, “Look at me, Sheila.”

My eyes open this time. Lock on his. He smiles down at me, and I can see from the dark pleasure in his gaze just how much he enjoys this. Watching the pleasure wash through me, and knowing it’s by his hand.

I cry his name a second time, arch up against him as another orgasm hits me, stronger than the first. All I can see as the wave of pleasure rocks through me is him—his face, his dark eyes fixed on mine.

I’m still focused on him when his mouth parts, and he leans down close to me. “I’m going to come now. I can pull out, or—”

“No,” I say, surprising myself with the force of it. I tighten my legs around him, reach up to pull him down closer. “I want to feel you. Everything. I want you to come inside me, Ruckus.”

He smiles, and behind that smile is a whole world of lust. He’s on fire, and it’s all for me. I understand now why he liked watching me come—I’m enjoying watching him do the same. He pulls me up off the grass, our bodies pressed tight together. With a harsh growl, he comes inside me, and I feel a white hot rush as his seed spills into my pussy. He keeps thrusting, pumping against me, and I squeeze my pussy walls as tight as I can, milk every last drop from him until we both collapse to the grass in a sweaty tangle, breathing hard, our hearts racing.

When he pulls out, I laugh a little in surprise at the hot rush that spills down my thigh. Then I roll on top of him in the grass and press my lips to his.

When I pull away again, I don’t recognize the expression on his face. He’s gazing at me as though I’m a miracle. “You are so impossibly perfect, Sheila Greyson,” he murmurs. Then our lips meet again, and our kiss drowns out whatever else he was about to say.

In this moment, alone in our secret meadow with only the moon as our witness, and a blade of grass still tied tight around my ring finger, I don’t think I could feel any more truly married to this man than I do now. I’m his, and he’s mine. For good.