Cowboy Professor_A Western Romance Love Story

by Ivy Jordan

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Ava

  The last thing I saw before Channing jumped off the couch was his cock ready to burst out of his jeans. He would’ve toppled me to the ground when he rushed forward had he not had his hands behind my back, holding me steady while he ravaged me with his lips and I stepped backward.

  I fell on the bed, and he crashed on top of me. I saw his hips rise behind him. Then he crashed down and rested his bulge on the space between my legs. His lips were rising and falling as his kiss moved deeper, and my eyes fell closed.

  The pressure of his cock pressed against my lips brought a hot, shuddering sensation spreading out from between my thighs, up my body. It rested just below my belly button and danced with his lips, his tongue swishing against mine. The gentle caress was heaven. His finger trailing down my side an angel feather, smoothing the lace against my skin.

  He was diving deeper now, and faster, his head turning slowly, his hand resting on my stomach while he dug his bulge between my legs. I could feel the head piercing through, resting on my lips. It jumped, and a burst of moisture flowed out.

  His tongue pulled out, and his hand moved lower, his fingers streaking down the small of my back, over my hips. He pulled me closer, and his cock moved deeper as his lips pressed against my chin, his breath flowing down my neck.

  The warmth spread, a fire growing down over my throat, back behind my ear. His teeth didn’t push through, not yet. He sucked on the skin, let it fall, and pulled it in again while he reached underneath the lace and pulled his hand up, over the sensitive skin on my stomach.

  His tongue flicked over my earlobe, drew it in, and he bit down—hard. The breath caught in my throat, and he pressed his teeth in, pulled them out and dug them in again while his hand pushed further up my stomach, closer to my breast.

  His kiss fell lower, and his teeth with it, digging into the side of my neck, teasing it with his tongue, and his cock was dug deep between my legs. I could feel him pulling it back, then pressing it in. It moved up and parted my lips. I gasped, and his finger passed over the tip of my nipple.

  My voice bubbled out, and he cupped my breast, all while his hips moved. His cock pulled in and out. He lifted his head and met my eyes. The look he gave me was one of sheer enjoyment. He was taking me in, enjoying the sound of my voice as it escaped my throat, and exploring my body with his free hand.

  It wasn’t the physical sensation that enticed me; it was his need for affection and the idea that he wanted me to be happy. He didn’t care about how he felt. He got his pleasure from watching my face, and the way it clenched up when he clamped down on my nipple, or the way my body jolted when he slammed the full length of his cock between my legs.

  That was a kiss, his touch another, and his hand pulling down my side, the other circling my areola. This wasn’t about pleasure or sex. We were making love, and that was completely different. It added another level to the experience. I didn’t just enjoy his touch or want it. I needed it. I needed to feel his fingers like a warm breeze, stirring fire up inside me, and his eyes drinking in my chest when he moved up to taste my lips. Those eyes were magic.

  His tongue was a wand, enchanting my lips, enthralling me with its taste, its force, and skill. His cock was moving faster, and I could feel it jumping, pressing through my lips, teasing out moisture, and a pool growing beneath my stomach, trickling out with every thrust.

  He reached his other hand up under the lace to cup my other breast as he planted kiss after kiss down my throat and over my chest. His thumbs were flitting over my nipples, like sparks adding to the flames that were shooting down my stomach, melding with the pool. It was boiling now, scorching hot, and it was beginning to boil over, fueled by his kiss, and his body moving down mine. His cock slid over my thigh, down to my knee as he kissed the tops of my breasts and moved further down, into the space between them.

  My nipples were standing up straight. I could feel them harden in anticipation. He had one finger making a ring around the other rim, sending out fire and a sense of anticipation that built up, filling the pool and exciting my senses. His tongue flicked my nipple.

  The jolt was instant, and my legs snapped closed. He met my eyes with a giggle, let his tongue press through the lace, the mesh digging into the edge of my nipple as his tongue made a heavenly ring around it. His hand pulled down my stomach, his fingers caressing the sensitive skin like fine silk, and rested on the hem of my nightie.

  He was staring at me now, pulling the nipple through his lips, letting his tongue flow over it, like wet flames pounding at my heart, flowing down my stomach. The pool was growing, boiling hotter and hotter, and the pressure between my legs was building. His teeth clamped down on my nipple.

  “Oh, God.”

  His smoky laugh hit me in the gut and sent my stomach fluttering, my legs trembling. He had one finger clamped down on my nipple, moving it between his fingers while he bit down on the other. His teeth were sharp, jarring, but so sweet, rough and sensual, like his hands slowly pulling the nightie up higher, rubbing the lace against my side.

  I could feel him grinding his hips up and down my legs, the denim grating against my skin. He lifted my nightie up off my head, and the white veil fell down to the floor beside him. That moment, while the fabric caught the air, seemed to last an infinity. His lips had moved onto my nipple, and his hands were gently moving down my sides. He rested them on the top of my hips and kissed the space between my breasts.

  Then he looked at me, and his kiss moved down, just an inch, but it was enough. The anticipation was growing inside me, and my lips were bright red, opening and closing like a blossom grabbing at the open air. His hand moved closer, away from my hip, along the top of my thigh.

  The moisture was pooling up under me. The burn was unimaginable, and his lips—there was nothing sweeter than those smooth, succulent mounds of pure affection, like love embodied. Every kiss was a reaffirmation of the connection we had, and his need to bring me pleasure.

  He kissed my belly button, and his finger squeezed through the space between my thigh, over my lips, and rested on the space between them. I lifted my head to watch, filled with both terror and excitement. I wasn’t afraid of him. I was afraid of what he would do to me once he took hold.

  The pool inside me was raging, seething, and it was ready to burst out. I could feel it pressing through, between my legs and out my opening. It was more than a trickle now. His finger had made it a wave, rushing forward, pushing past.

  His finger moved deeper and rested on my opening. The heat caught me in its grip, and I clenched tight, my lips pursed, and my teeth bit down on the back of my lip. I was pulling back, trying to get away from it, but he was pushing forward, and the tip of his finger pressed through.

  The warmth and the feeling of his skin scraping against mine sent a shiver flying up my spine, and my head flew back. He pressed in deeper, and time seemed to stop. He was inside now, but I was still stuck in that moment when he pushed through, and my body began throbbing, pulsing, begging to take him in.

  He pushed through deeper and slid down onto his knees. He grabbed onto my legs and pulled them open. Then he was on me, his tongue sweeping across my clit, down to the tip and up again, like a hot whip while his finger twisted through me, past his middle knuckle. Then he pushed it all the way in.

  Something burst, and the pool started flowing, rushing through me now, as if my body were being drained, sending clouds, like heavenly wisps, eating my skin with tiny, electric teeth. They shot up my stomach and spread out across my chest, down my arms.

  He was still swinging his tongue back and forth across my clit, then down, closer to my opening. He curved up through me, and his my spot hard, sending a mind-altering shock through my body. There was a storm building up.

  His hand moved up my stomach and rested on the edge of my nipple while his finger pressed into my spot, deeper now, moving back and forth, over and over again. Spots were growing over my vision, and my head was laying
back. My eyes closed and I was swimming, my skin tingling, my stomach jumping.

  His finger was attacking me. It had become a lightning rod, taking in all of the passion and affection between us—his touch, my reactions—and channeling it into the tip so he could shoot it through me. The effect was astounding, but it wasn’t satisfying.

  His finger was thin, and my body was begging to be filled. He pulled back away from my spot, then drove back through again and pressed up into it so hard that the pressure inside me rose to a breaking point. My legs were trembling, and he was staring right at me, moving his finger back and forth over it while his tongue swept slowly down my clit.

  His breath, his tongue, his finger—all a carefully composed symphony, but nowhere near as compelling as the sight of him standing up. His cock was hanging low, resting against his thigh, and he was pulling up on the hem of his shirt.

  The thrill wasn’t the skin or the trail of hair leading up his stomach. It was the way he did it. Normally, it would’ve been stylish, with a playful grin while he took his time. This was different. He wasn’t teasing me or playing with me. He was exposing himself to me, and that wasn’t the same at all. It was intimate, romantic, and beautiful in a way, because when he tore his shirt off and stepped out of his pants, he fell on me. There was nothing between us, no cloth, no lace: just raw flesh.

  Then his tongue poured in, and we weren’t just connecting. We were trying to become a part of one another. He was exploring me with his hands, down my side, over my breasts. His finger passed over the nipple, and his cock was resting on my stomach.

  The foreskin pulled over and his lips swam down my neck as his body moved lower, and his cock slid down my stomach and rested on the space between my lips. He kissed my chest, one side, and then another while his other hand moved down my stomach. He gripped his cock by the base, slammed his tongue through me, and curved up into my spot where he rested while he pulled his tongue back.

  His hips shot forward, his cock pushed through, and I felt the bush of hair surrounding it graze my clit. He started moving faster, with long, gentle strokes like waves pressing against the shore inside me. The storm that had been building up was growing.

  When he increased the tempo, the storm inside me met the wave. It pulled up the water and held it there, dragging more and more moisture with it. It was like a black cloud hanging over the desert, soaking up every drop of water.

  His cock was flying through, sliding out. I could feel it against the walls, filling the neglected places, delving deeper than I’d ever thought possible. He knew how to find my spot, and he knew how to play it. He let his head slide over it, sending lightning surging through me. It melded with the storm, and I began to feel the rain sprinkling through me.

  At first, it fell in tiny, hot drops, like liquid flames that burned the skin and built up inside me, until they were flowing out. His cock was pounding at me. Skin stuck to skin, and our chests melded together while his hips rose up and down.

  He was just as focused on my lips and my mouth as he was on the rest of my body. His kiss was growing more frantic, and his breath was slamming into my face, wrapping me in a warm shell that turned into a blast of fire when he slammed in deep. The storm flew out.

  The clouds rolled through me, wet and tingling, passing over my skin, while bursts of lightning cracked up and down my body so fast I lost track of where they were. The electricity was gliding over my skin, sending a chill, and now a ripple of moisture that grew steadily larger and larger until it became a shudder.

  He was slamming through faster, his hips like thunder crashing down on me; his cock was a red hot poker digging deeper and deeper. All of a sudden, his head whipped back, and he grunted, sending a warm stream surging through me.

  When he collapsed next to me, he wrapped his arm around mine and turned me over so that I was facing him and he could worship me with his lips. He wanted me, and not just my body. He wanted to worship the woman that I was.

  Our connection was growing deeper, and I was drowning in it, but I didn’t care. When he pulled back to look at me, his eyes were resting on mine with a smile curved his lips.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever fully trusted another person,” I said, “but I think I can trust you.”

  “You can.” He took my hand, resting at my side, and I rolled back to look up at the ceiling. “I want to do everything I can to make you happy. I don’t want you to have to worry about anything: not your mother, not your sister. They can be taken care of, and so can you. You don’t have to struggle the way that you have been.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You’re not asking.” He scooted closer to wrap his arm around my stomach and lifted his head up to get a look at me. “I won’t let you suffer.” He pressed his lips to mine, and I swooned.

  This man walked into my life and changed everything. I told him that I wasn’t going to let him help me, but I was just putting up a fight for the sake of it. I didn’t really mean that. There was nothing that I wanted more than to let him swoop in and take things over. He’d ease all my wounds and heal all the past heartache. I didn’t have to be a poor girl anymore.

  He stroked my cheek while my chest rose and fell, and his breath poured down my stomach. I rolled over so that we were facing again so I could get a look at him. I’d looked into his eyes a thousand times, but they’d always been a barrier keeping me from seeing inside him. Now, they were pure, clear pools, and I could see straight to the bottom where there was nothing but devotion, silence, and innocence, clean and untainted.

  “When is your game?” I asked.

  “Next week—Saturday.”

  “So soon. Your life could change, Channing.”

  “It already did.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  He stroked my cheek and smiled. “You’re what matters.”

  “You’ve probably been wanting this your entire life.”

  “I have, but there’s a lot to it that I don’t want to deal with.” He turned over onto his back. “There’ll be a party that night. If I don’t go, it will be a big deal, and of course, the scouts will be around, and they’ll want to talk to me.”

  “I could come.”

  “If you want to, I guess, but it won’t be anything you’re interested in.”

  “No, you’re probably right.”

  “But I don’t like you missing out on all this. It’s a big part of my life. I want to stop by after. Does that sound okay?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good.” He kissed me and wrapped his arm around me so we could fall asleep. My bed felt empty when he was gone. When he was there, I felt fulfilled. It was as simple as that. We belonged there together.

  Chapter Thirty

  Channing

  Three hundred grapevines and my hands were limp. Now my calves were burning, ready to give out, and I was only through halfway through the 32 laps the coach had ordered us to take. I wasn’t even sure I could make it, but I kept going. It was worth it, knowing that on Sunday night I’d walk up to Ava’s apartment and tell her that my dreams had come true.

  The field didn’t matter, the game didn’t matter, and neither did any of the players. All I cared about was seeing her smile when I told her. Her smile kept me running down the track, even when my legs were ready to give out, and it kept my heart from pounding out of my chest.

  When I closed my eyes, I saw her laying naked beside me on the bed, while we talked about the future. I’d never been one to look ahead. There was no hope for improvement in my life, but she changed that. She made me wish for tomorrow, and for that, I’d be forever grateful.

  My feet were smacking against the pavement, and I heard the sound of somebody overtaking me, but I didn’t care. My eyes were closed, and I could still see her. She was standing in the doorframe, wearing her lace nightie now.

  It really touched me when I saw that painting. It meant even more than she knew. It wasn’t about the house, or what things would be like for us in
the future. She was planning for our future, and our house, and I was an integral part of those plans. It was like Mike said: this was a religious experience.

  I was getting further and further along the track now. This was my 21st lap, and I was already starting to get behind. I decided to pick up the pace, tense my arms, and run as fast as I could. The other players seemed disappointed as I passed them by.

  When I finally finished my laps, I hunched over on the side of the track, ready to hurl while I struggled to catch my breath. The other players were just starting to make it to the finish line, and the coach was calling out their times, but I wasn’t paying attention. My lungs were burning, and my stomach was rising and falling, making it look like the ground was moving with it.

  “Barker!”

  I shot up and turned around. The coach was behind me, and everyone else was gone. “Yes, Coach.”

  “Go clean your nasty ass and get down to my office.” He turned around and started walking back into the locker room.

  I was too tired to move but too restless to stand still, so I did as I was told and hopped into the shower. I wasn’t sure what he wanted. I didn’t care. I was still gone, laying in Ava’s room, and my cock was starting to get hard.

  My fingers slipped over it easily, and I rested my hand against the other wall to brace myself. I remembered the first night when I was with her, how apprehensive she was when I started to eat her out, and how beautiful it was when she finally came.

  She was the first virgin I’d ever been with. I never thought that sex could be such a powerful experience, and it just kept getting better, more profound as we grew closer. I wondered how she felt, if it was different for a woman when they started to get close to somebody.

  Did she like it when I looked her in the eye while I licked her clit? Did she feel the same exhilaration I felt when I pushed my cock through her? What about the rush I got when I saw her naked chest?