30. 30 #2
I can’t help the smile that curls my mouth. “You like me,” I tease. “You’re just fighting it. And I get it. I do.”
Her fingers brush my chest, her gaze lingering on my mouth like she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Whatever tension cracked open that night at the motel, it’s not fading. It’s settling in. I tug her closer by the hips, her hands steadying on my shoulders.
I pat the seat. “Climb up.”
She hesitates. “What if it falls?”
“It won’t. It’s stable.”
She moves slowly, swinging one leg over to straddle the bike, and I’m truly surprised she didn’t protest. I shift in front of her, so her thighs are tight around me. And fuck me, this view. Those cut-off shorts. The dust on her boots. The way her eyes are dark and locked on mine.
“Why’d you really bring me here?” she asks.
“I told you. To hang out.”
Her brows lift like she’s calling me out.
“And maybe to remind you that whatever happened between us? It’s not going anywhere.”
Her breath stumbles, and I slide my palms up her thighs, gripping them like I might lose my mind if I don’t.
“Michael…”
I lean forward, and she puts her palms flat to my chest. “We can’t do this,” she says. “That was just—”
“Don’t you dare call it a one-time thing.” My voice is low, rough. This is against every rule I’ve ever made for myself. Every wall I’ve built. But right now, I don’t give a damn. I need her.
“Just… let me. Please.”
Her chest rises and falls in quick, shallow pulls, and when she finally gives the smallest nod, I’m gone.
I press my mouth to her jaw, kissing a slow trail down her throat, nibbling just enough for her to feel it.
Her hips shift into mine in response. One of my hands slides up, my thumb brushing the column of her throat.
I test the pressure—just a whisper of dominance—and that’s when she moans. That soft, high sound that ruins me.
I lean into her ear, my breath hot against her skin. “I’ve been dreaming about this. About you. About how good you’d taste. Reckon you can keep quiet, Freckles?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m gonna make you come right here. On this track. And I’m not stopping till you do.”
“I thought you said no one was here.”
“There isn’t,” I murmur, lips grazing her jaw. “But we wouldn’t want to risk anyone hearing you scream my name, would we?”
Her breath shudders, and this time, there’s no argument.
“Is that a yes, Freckles?” I ask, cupping a hand over her pussy through the denim, feeling the heat pulsing there. Her whimper is all the answer I need. I lift her off the bike, pressing her back against the seat. I step off and slide my hands down her hips.
“Can I?” I ask, my fingers hovering over the waistband of her shorts. She nods, shaking her head like she can’t believe this is happening.
Believe it, baby. I drag her shorts and underwear down slowly, every inch of revealed skin making my chest ache. Once they’re low enough, she shifts, parting her legs, and I step between them. Her thighs hook over my shoulders as I drop to my knees. And fuck me, she’s perfect.
Completely bare and flushed, glistening with arousal.
I’m already addicted.
“Fuck, look at you,” I mutter, dragging my tongue along the seam of her. She jolts, hips twitching beneath my grip. Her tangy flavour bursts across my tongue—hot, heady—and I groan into her cunt. “You taste unreal. Sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever had.”
I don’t ease in. I devour.
My tongue moves deep, teasing and curling, lips locking around her clit with hard, then soft, sucks until her fingers dig into my shoulders. Her moans tear through the air. They’re unapologetically loud, broken.
“Michael… fuck,” she pants.
I tighten my grip on her thighs, keeping her steady as she rocks into me, chasing every stroke of my mouth.
“You feel that?” I growl, voice rough against her soaked flesh. “That’s my tongue buried in your pretty little cunt. And I’m not stopping till you’re shaking all over it.”
I flatten my tongue and drag it up her centre a few times until her thighs start to tremble. Then I do it again. And again. Circling her clit, dipping my tongue deeper, working her until she’s right on the edge of falling apart. When I glance up, her chest is heaving. Eyes glassy. Wild.
“Come for me, Zoe. Let me taste it all.”
She tips her head back, mouth parted on a moan, one hand fumbling for the edge of the seat to steady herself, the other still clutching my shoulder.
I slide a finger into her, and she jolts beneath me.
I add a second, and her breath catches, as I curl them just right—stroking that spot I haven’t stopped thinking about.
Her body tenses, thighs twitching around my head, like she’s about to unravel.
“Oh fuck—Michael,” she exclaims. “Don’t stop.”
Not a chance.
I flick my tongue over her clit and curl my fingers again—and that’s it. That’s all it takes. She shatters. Moaning loud, head thrown back, thighs clamping around my head as her orgasm tears through her. It’s wild and messy and fucking perfect .
She tastes like something I’ll never get over.
And I’m smiling. Like a fucking idiot. Mouth still open on her, tongue dragging slow and steady through her pussy as she rides out every last wave of it. I don’t know what the hell I did to deserve this—hell, deserve her —but fuck, it’s a privilege.
The way she sounds now? All raspy and breathless? I can only imagine how she’ll sound when I’m buried balls deep inside her, dragging every broken moan out with my cock.
When I finally rise, her legs wrap weakly around my waist. I lean in, pressing my forehead to hers, needing her close.
“Told you,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. “This isn’t going anywhere.”