The prospect of what they could do with all that time sent a thrill through her. Followed by another stab of regret that it would be their last.

“But we have a lot to accomplish, so maybe we should get going.” She skimmed her fingers down over his steely pecs to circle his nipple.

He started to move, but she scrambled to her feet first. Putting both hands on his shoulders, she used her weight to keep him seated on the sofa. Or rather, he allowed her to keep him there. “My turn to ride,” she said.

“You sure you aren’t saddle sore, cowgirl?”

Her answer was to unbuckle the waistband of his chaps.

“Yee haw,” he said, helping her yank off his boots, chaps, and jeans in rapid succession. He retrieved a condom from his jeans pocket and kicked the pile of clothes away.

As he leaned back against the leather cushions, she luxuriated in the full glory of his naked body, letting her gaze trail down over the mass of his shoulders, across the gilt-dusted planes of his chest, along the laddered ridges of his abs, and past the tower of his cock. She traced along the ridges of his thigh muscles and drifted down his powerful calves to the strong arches of his bare feet planted squarely on the floor.

“Yee haw is right,” she said, stunned as always by how beautiful and male he was.

He was watching her under half-closed eyelids. “Darlin’, you looking was almost as good as you actually touching me. But not quite.” He sat forward and seized the front of her shirt to pull her closer. “This needs to come off,” he said, flicking the buttons out of the flannel and shoving it off her shoulders.

His hands were on her breasts, lifting them and rolling his thumbs over the nipples. She swayed on her high-heeled boots as electric desire sparked through her. Seeing her totter, he brought his hands to her waist to steady her, his thumbs nearly touching at her navel.

She stepped forward so she stood straddling his legs. “I think I need to sit down.”

He reached for the condom.

“Not yet.” She bent her knees and sank onto the steel girders of his thighs, reveling in the feel of his strength under her backside. Taking his cock in both hands, she stroked up and down the hard column.

Luke groaned and let his head fall back on the sofa cushions, closing his eyes. “You have hands like velvet, sugar.”

She circled her thumbs around the tip of his erection, making him moan again. When she reached between her thighs and his to cup his balls, his hips pulsed upward and he lifted his head.

“Time for me to do some of the work.” He reached for the condom and rolled it on before he gave her a questioning look. “You ready for that?”

Just straddling his thighs had made moisture pool inside her. The thought of being impaled on his cock made her inner muscles clench. To answer him, she scooted her knees onto the couch cushion and braced her hands on his shoulders so she was poised over his erection. She looked into his eyes and smiled. “Spare a horse. Ride a cowboy.” Then she sank downward to drive his erection inside her.

They cried out in unison. His hands came to her waist again, this time gripping her like iron bands as he held her there, her legs spread over his lap, her clit grinding against the wiry hair around the base of his cock. The tendons on his neck stood out as he let her absorb him inside her. “You’re so sexy,” he said, his gaze resting on the swell of her breasts.

His cock seemed to thicken inside her. To see if she could break his control, she squeezed her internal muscles.

He released one hand to give her behind a light slap. She yelped in surprise, but the tiny sting ratcheted her arousal up another notch.

“You did that to bother me, sugar,” he said, his voice a rasp.

“Just seeing how long you can hold out.”

“Back to the competition,” he said. He flexed his hips to shift his cock inside her.

She tightened her muscles again, winding her own tension tighter.

He growled and seized her hips, lifting her upward until he was barely inside her. She breathed out a mew of disappointment, and then he brought her downward as he pushed his hips upward. They slammed together, sending an earthquake of heat and friction shuddering through her. For a moment they stayed there suspended, his cock driven deep. Then his hips dropped and he pulled her up again, leaving her almost empty before he reversed the motions.

“Ahhh, yessss,” she moaned, tilting her pelvis so that she forced him even deeper.

“Miranda,” he growled. And then he positioned her so he could let loose, thrusting and withdrawing with a relentless rhythm. He went still before he bucked and howled his release, his voice echoing off the glass wall as he pumped and throbbed inside her. He held her there until she felt his cock soften. When he slid out, the slight friction made her moan.

“Now, you,” he said, slipping his thumb up inside her while his fingers played her clit.

Her muscles clamped around his thumb as her core went incandescent. She rocked and cried out. He touched her again, and her orgasm pulsed once more before releasing her.

She collapsed over him, her head on his shoulder, barely twitching when he withdrew his thumb. She felt the back of his hand brush against her as he stripped off the condom, eliciting a minuscule flicker of sensation. All she could do was sigh against his neck.

He swiveled them around so he could stretch out on the couch, bringing her down with him.

“Won’t this hurt your bruises?” she asked as he wrapped his arms around her back.

“What bruises?”