Southern Hotshot: A North Carolina Highlands Novel

by Peterson, Jessica

  In my arms, she lets go.

  I watch, heart in my throat, with my eyes on her face. The sinews of her neck pop against her skin, and I lean down to kiss them. She curls her hands into the muscles on my chest, nails biting into the skin, and the place between my blood and bones sings at the ferociousness of her desire.

  She wants to be held so I hold her. I pump into her, my balls tightening. I keep my gaze on her face as she rides out her orgasm.

  At last, Emma opens her eyes. They’re stormy, sated. Full.

  She’s falling.

  I kiss her, and I come, growling into her mouth as my entire being implodes. Pulse after pulse of pounding sweetness I can barely breathe through. But I keep my eyes open and watch her watching me lose my shit.

  Emma strokes my face, tucking my hair away from my forehead. The shockwaves flatten me, and for several seconds, my heart stops working even as the pulses keep coming.

  The orgasm goes on for forty-eight years.

  When my heart finally starts beating again, it feels different inside my chest. Like it’s worked itself into a new shape. Or maybe just untied itself from its perpetual knot.

  I let out a breath.

  Emma keeps playing with my hair. It feels nice. She smiles.

  I do too. A real smile. Because finally, fucking finally, I don’t feel lonely anymore.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Emma

  I wake up naked, horny, and sore.

  I am sore everywhere—between my legs and inside my chest. The first one isn’t new, but the second one is. My pulse skips a beat.

  Oh, God, this feeling. It’s lovely and it’s terrifying, and in the darkness, my heart begins to pound.

  I forgot myself with Samuel. I don’t always play the alpha, but my tendencies always show through.

  Tonight, though? Tonight, I forgot about power dynamics. I forgot to play or that control even existed. Because the sex was so good, and I was so into it that I barely had time to catch my breath, much less plot out what my next move should be. And that sort of freedom—that sort of ease, of comfort—is something I’ve never felt before with another person.

  I felt connected with Samuel during sex without being worried about keeping my guard up. I felt appreciated for who I was in the moment. Not who I could be or should be.

  He adores me for who I am.

  Against my better judgment, I’m falling in love with Samuel Beauregard.

  Not only that, I told him as much on that bearskin rug in front of the fire. Granted, I didn’t say the words out loud. But he knew, and I knew, and now it’s not only my career in his hands, but my heart too.

  I want him. I want to be with him.

  I am so fucked it’s not even funny. Although having sex on a bearskin rug in front of a roaring fire is a cliché for a reason. It is awesome.

  The worst slash best part? I’m pretty damn sure Samuel’s falling for me too. He didn’t say so either, not explicitly. But there was a tenderness in his lovemaking, an earnestness in his eyes, that I know he wanted me to notice. My insides do a happy dance at the idea that we are in love. My pussy clenches, and I can tell I’m already wet.

  I start to panic.

  Putting my hand on my forehead, I turn my head a little on the pillow. I can just make out the slumbering shadow of Samuel’s massive body. He breathes deeply, evenly, making my rapid, shallow breaths sound all the more distressed. Turning away, I reach for my phone on the nightstand. It’s 1:08 AM.

  I pull up my chat app because I don’t know what else to do. Blue hasn’t sent me a message since I cancelled. I can’t tell if I’m relieved or bummed he hasn’t reached out since. I feel messy inside. Stirred up and swirling.

  “Hey,” Samuel says in a sleep-roughed voice, making me jump.

  I turn back to him. My eyes have adjusted to the darkness so I can see his face now. The swollen fullness of his lips makes my heart twist.

  “Hi.”

  “You okay?”

  “No.”

  He furrows his brow. “Are you hurting?”

  “I’m a little sore, but nothing too bad.”

  “Can I get you anything? Tylenol?”

  Christ, why does he have to care so much? “That would be great, yeah.”

  He sits up and turns on the light beside the bed. The muscles in his back and butt flex as he stands. He’s gloriously naked, and when he turns toward the bathroom, I can see he’s fully, unashamedly erect.

  I want.

  Samuel returns with the Tylenol, a glass of water, and some lube.

  “The lube’s not for that,” he says, handing me the water and Tylenol. “It’s a little cooling, you know? Thought it might soothe your soreness.”

  He’s not wrong. I gulp the medicine, grateful to have some water too. “All right.”

  I figure he’ll pass the lube and let me apply it. But instead, he makes his way around the bed and sits beside me, erect penis and all, and squeezes a good bit of lube onto his fingers.

  Sensation spikes through my clit at the image of him touching me.

  “I can do it,” I say.

  He cocks his head. “Let me? I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

  I love how he looks out for me.

  “I know,” I say, knowing exactly where this is headed. “All right.”

  I shouldn’t go for round two. Actually, I should get my ass out of Samuel’s bed and go home to process what’s going down between us.

  But I want him too badly. I need him to hold me and love me, if only for tonight.

  Because let’s be real, maybe tonight is all we have. I can love Samuel and be loved by him here in the privacy of his exquisite home, but when we’re back at the barn surrounded by employees and expectations—I mean, that’s a totally different scenario.

  But for tonight, I can play pretend. The rest of the world doesn’t exist. It’s just him and me until forever. There will be no fallout, only orgasms and great food.

  Samuel pulls back the covers. He’s naked, and I’m naked, and I’m parting my legs for him, I’m watching with bated breath as he leans down and kisses my stomach before reaching between my thighs.

  He touches me, and I jump, the desire in my core tightening. His first two fingers glide down my slit, making my breath catch, and his nostrils flare again.

  “Did you wake up this wet?”

  The lube does feel nice, but that doesn’t stop my heart from swelling.

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “It is when you need me, but you don’t say anything,” he replies, meeting my eyes. Shit, he’s angry. “Why didn’t you tell me? We don’t have to fuck. I can get you off a million other ways, Em.”

  Em. I love all these nicknames he suddenly has for me.

  “I know you can,” I shoot back, seeing stars when his fingers find my clit. “Doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do.”

  His fingers go still. “You think what we’re doing is wrong?”

  “I don’t know,” I say softly. “But it feels nice. Samuel, it feels—” I hiss when he touches my clit again.

  “You feel what?” he says.

  “I feel like fucking you.”

  I expect him to maul me right then and there. Instead, he pins me with a glare. Fingers still moving between my legs, he shakes his head. “I’m not fucking you.”

  “Why not?”

  “You know why. I want to make love to you. But it doesn’t matter what I want, because you’re sore and you think this is wrong and I won’t—”

  “I want that,” I say quickly, a different kind of panic rising in my chest. “I want you to make love to me, Samuel. The lube is helping. You won’t hurt me, I promise. And this isn’t wrong. It’s just…complicated.”

  “Complicated doesn’t equal right. I need you to be okay with this, or I’m not going any further.”

  I roll my eyes. “Sometimes complicated equals delicious. And that’s what this is. Right now, Samuel, this is fucking delicious.” I
firm my voice. “Give me what I want.”

  He looks at me for a long beat. “Can I tell you what I want?”

  “Sho-oot,” I manage when he slips a single finger inside me.

  “That hurt?”

  “No. It felt good. Really good.” I’m panting now, eyes glued to the place where he’s touching me. His fingers—those fingers—move slowly over my slick folds, making sticky sounds that only turn me on more.

  “I love condoms. Well, I don’t love them, but I always use them. Like, always. But with you, I kinda…don’t. Want to use them, I mean.”

  I go still, and my heart flips. For a second, I feel like I’m going to cry. Not because he’s being careless, but because he wants it to be different with me.

  The idea is arousing in the extreme to the point that it overwhelms me. Fuck, how am I supposed to pretend these feelings will just…go away tomorrow?

  “Samuel—”

  “Forget it.” He leans in and presses a hot, quick kiss to my lips. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

  “Why did you bring it up?”

  “Because I want you to trust me the way I trust you. Because I want to feel you. Because I’m the best lay you’ve ever had, and I want to show you how the sex can get even better. Because—”

  A beat of silence stretches between us, filling with the words he didn’t say.

  The words I’m too scared to hear.

  “I’m sorry,” he says again. “It was wrong of me to ask. To put pressure on you.”

  “It’s okay. I just…I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

  He nods, climbing onto the bed so that he’s on his haunches between my legs. “I’m glad you told me. Just keep talking to me, okay?”

  “Of course.”

  He slips his hands underneath my knees and spreads my legs wider. He looks down at my pussy, then looks up at me. The earnestness in his gaze, the hunger, is so real and so sharp it takes my breath away. “May I?”

  I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, throat suddenly tight. “You may.”

  Then he ducks down and gives my slit a long, slow lick that has my hips curling off the bed and my fingers fisting in his hair. “My clit,” I say. “Go there. Now.”

  His eyes flash as he does what I tell him, pressing the flat of his tongue to my clit. He stays there, waiting for further instruction.

  The need inside my blood roars. Maybe if I reach for my inner alpha, if I grab at whatever control I can get my hands on at this point, I won’t cry. “Now circle it. Yes, just like that, just the tip of your—” My breath catches. “I forgot how good you are at this. Now kiss me. Slow and deep. Like you mean it, Samuel. Yes. Yes.” I reach for the Trojans on the bedside table. I grab one and tear it open with my teeth. “I want to come on your dick.”

  Samuel groans against my pussy in reply, the vibration making me see stars.

  I grab his hair and pull him away from my pussy. “On your knees.”

  He straightens to an impressive height even on his knees, towering over me. His body radiates heat. I drink him in, starting at his thighs. He’s muscle and girth and strength, sinews tight against his skin. His mouth and the tip of his cock glisten. A cock that’s enormous, its velvet length protruding obscenely from between his sculpted hips.

  All this power. He’s surrendering all this beauty to me.

  My eyes film over. Hands shake as I pull the condom out of the wrapper and wrap my fingers around the underside of his shaft, giving him a firm, slow tug.

  Oh my God, how am I supposed to maintain control when he’s so fucking beautiful?

  When I can be exactly who I want to be with him because he makes me feel so damn at home in his arms?

  I roll the condom onto his dick.

  “Hey.” He curls his first finger underneath my chin, tilting my head to look up at him. “What’s wrong?”

  Samuel’s brows are drawn together. Curving upward ever so slightly above his nose. His eyes are soft. His whole expression is sweetly concerned.

  I shake my head. Sniff. “You’re pretty, that’s all.”

  His belly bows out on a quiet laugh. “You’re the pretty one, Em. But thank you.”

  He’s fully sheathed now. Ready to go. But I can’t help running my palm up his belly, fingers moving over the smooth skin just above his hips.

  Rising up onto my own knees, I move up to his ribs, his breath quickening when I brush my fingers across his nipple. His pectoral muscles tighten, making him look even bigger and firmer.

  I can feel the need thrumming inside his skin. He’s hot to the touch, breath coming in pants now. But still I go slowly, doing my best to savor the moment. Savor the fact that he’s flesh and blood and he’s here, and how that makes this encounter so much more intense than any I’ve had online.

  It’s more intense than any encounter I’ve had, ever.

  Our eyes meet. He reaches up and thumbs a tear off my cheek.

  “I know,” he says. And then he cups my face in my hands and kisses me deeply, tenderly, the thickness of his erection pressing into my stomach. I can taste myself on his lips.

  He breaks the kiss and sits on the mattress, straightening his legs. Without a word I climb onto his lap, knees straddling his hips, and taking his dick in my hand, I notch it at my center. His hands skim up my sides, thumbs flicking over my nipples as I lean my forehead against his. Our eyes lock. His breath is warm on my skin, our noses brushing when I wrap my arms around his neck.

  Lowering the cradle of my hips, I sink onto his length. But then I stop, hissing when his head fully breaches my entrance.

  He goes still. “Too much?”

  “The angle,” I pant. “It’s different. I’ll be okay.”

  In reply, he curls his arms around my waist, offering me support as I lower myself bit by bit. There’s some resistance, and I feel myself stretching to accommodate him. There’s a burning twinge that reminds me we’ve already done this once tonight, and beneath that, a calm certainty that we’ll do it again.

  I sink as far as I can go. Samuel’s eyes on mine the whole time. For several beats, I stay there, our breaths finding a matching rhythm as I adjust to the feel of him.

  It doesn’t take long until I’m soaked and soft and close to coming. I start rocking my hips, little circles at first. Samuel gives me a minute or two and then he starts moving too, thrusting his hips to meet mine. We go slowly at first, and then we keep going slow. The effort not to ride him hard and fast makes sweat break out on my skin, but I can see in his eyes that he wants to savor this too.

  This isn’t playful sex. This is serious I’m-so-into-you sex, and even though it scares the shit out of me, it’s too wonderful not to enjoy.

  Silent, I watch him rise to meet his orgasm, and he watches me. Brows curving upward again, he’s reaching down to thumb my clit, and that’s all it takes to send me over the edge. He cries out at the same moment my pussy fists around him, and I realize we’re coming together.

  We cling to each other as it happens, my body pulsing with exquisite, almost brutal release.

  The wave subsides and Samuel and I are left wrapped up together. Breathing hard, and falling harder.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Samuel

  “Let’s talk,” I say the next morning, handing Emma her coffee.

  She looks unkempt. Mouth swollen, cheeks bright, hair everywhere.

  She looks like she’s just been fucked all night by someone who knows how.

  I grin, my dick twitching at the memory of her sucking me off in the shower ten minutes ago. We’d ended up on the floor, tiles cold against my ass as she rode my dick with abandon. She came in two seconds and then asked me to come on her tits.

  Yep. Never waking up without Emma Crawford in my bed again.

  I want to shower with her. Cook for her. Eat with her. Fuck her again before lunch.

  Spend time with her outside work where she’s my equal. My counterpoint.

  I want that, even though the idea of l
iving with someone should terrify me, given how much I value my privacy. But with Em—

  With Em, I feel calm about changing my life, and the way I think.

  She’s wearing the sweatshirt I gave her and nothing else. Her bare legs are muscled, strong, and sexy as hell.

  And I know she’s going commando. I resist the urge to reach between her legs and find out if she woke up wet again.

  “Can I have my coffee first?” she asks, tipping back the mug. “This is good, by the way.”

  “Of course it is. I made it. And no, I want to talk to you now, before you have a chance to escape.”

  She cocks a brow. “Are you holding me prisoner?”

  “Only if you want me to.” I look out over the snow. We got a good six inches, and it blankets everything around us in white. The overcast sky is white too, turning the world into a quiet winter paradise. “I want you to stay.”

  She smiles down at her mug. “We’ve been over this, remember? I am staying.”

  “Not on the farm.” I take a breath. “I want you to stay with me. Here, in my house. For good.”

  She swallows another sip, smoothing her tongue along her bottom lip. My gut twists. She’s hesitating.

  Not the response I was hoping for.

  “You know why I can’t,” she begins.

  I dip my head. “I do. You’ve got a lot on the line, and I recognize how much you’re risking to be with me. I’m not even sure it’s right to make such a huge ask of you.” I search her eyes. My heart is pounding so hard I feel sick. I take a deep breath and plunge forward. “But I have to ask anyway. What we have—it’s once-in-a-lifetime stuff, Em. Last night, you asked me about my dad, and what went with him when he died. And I think it was my ability to trust people. That whole situation with Olly sure as hell didn’t help.”

  “No kidding.” Emma winces. “I can only imagine.”

  “Guess I learned that letting people in gives them the power to hurt you. And they will hurt you. So I threw up some walls, figuring I could protect myself or whatever. Which they did—the walls did work for a while. But over time, I realized that keeping people out also meant not letting anyone in. I didn’t let anyone know me, and I was lonely as hell.” I swallow when I see Em’s eyes fill with tears. “And then I met you. You live fearlessly, and even though it took a hot minute for the message to get through my thick skull, you eventually inspired me to do the same. You’re different in all the right ways. I fucking adore that about you.”