Chapter 15 Maisey
MAISEY
Ewan Hayes brings out a side of me that I swear to God didn’t exist. Until now.
One that no one else has ever managed to even remotely come close to accessing.
Yet, somehow, around him, it all seems so normal. Natural. Like this is how it’s supposed to be. How I’m supposed to be.
Coy. Flirty. Sexy.
Horny.
I wrap my arms around Ewan’s neck, leaning forward, changing the angle at which our bodies meet.
My core runs along the bulge in his jeans, and I whimper, the brief moment of contact more than enough to rev the already idling engine inside me.
I try to fight the shudder taking over me, but my body has a mind of its own.
As does Ewan.
His strong hands grip on to me tighter—one hand palming my ass, the other splayed across my back—as he pulls me into him, capturing my mouth with his.
All my resolve fades away as I melt into his kiss, the perfect taste of him taking over, reminding me that this is where I belong. With him. Specifically, in his arms.
“So, about these orgasms…”
He nips at my jaw, and his hands move around to my sides, sliding upward and taking my shirt with them. Cool air hits my skin and my nipples contract, Ewan’s eyes going directly to my cleavage.
“W-w-what about them?” I ask.
Kissing his way down my neck, stopping only to nibble at my collarbone, Ewan unhooks my bra, stealing my breath in the process.
My insides clench, and I don’t know if it’s from the temperature change, the idea of being half naked in the middle of the camping display while the store is open, or all the dirty things Ewan is doing to me. Probably all three.
But mostly Ewan.
“Tell me about them.”
Everything stops. Well, everything except Ewan. He’s rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, like he’s trying to tune an old car radio, somehow knowing exactly what my body wants. And how to erase all my thoughts.
“I…errr…they’re…” My breath hitches, Ewan giving my other side the same treatment, sending sparks straight to my center. I squirm, trying to find that same contact as earlier. Chuckling, Ewan ups the ante, pinching me gently, causing me to cry out. “They’re…good…”
My words are inadequate, but I can barely think, much less string together any sort of coherent sentences as he teases me like this.
The longer he continues, the more amped I get.
I can feel myself getting wetter and wetter with each move of his fingers, and I just know these panties are ruined.
No idea which pair I’m wearing, but they are done for. We can hold a funeral tomorrow.
“Just good, huh?”
He pinches me again, my hips jutting forward as if on some sort of catapult.
“Mmmm-hmmmm…”
“But still better than what anyone else has given you?” he asks, reaching for the button on my pants.
“N-no…” I whisper, biting down on my lip, watching as he skillfully undoes my jeans single-handedly.
Looking up, I lock eyes with the boy who stole my heart all those years ago—the man who’s still holding it today—my pulse jumping as I get ready to make another confession. “They’re better than his. Not yours.”
A wicked grin like I’ve never seen spreads across Ewan’s face.
It stretches from ear to ear, lighting up those cerulean-blue eyes like the sun dancing across the Caribbean sea, and is easily the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
Even more so than the infamous Hayes smirk that every member of his family has.
Because this grin, it does things to me. Dirty things. Body chemistry altering things.
My pussy throbs, wetness pooling at my core, my entire body overheating in an instant. All from a smile.
“That’s my girl.” He unzips my jeans as much as he can in this position, sliding his hand between us. It’s an awkward fit, but he manages, toying with the lacy trim of my panties. “But you still didn’t answer me.”
Answer him? What didn’t I answer?
My pulse kicks up as he dips his hand down farther, my breaths coming faster, willing him to continue. To go where I want him. Where my body is calling him.
“Tell me about them, baby.”
His hand stops, a rough, callused finger dragging against my skin, sending goose bumps up me. I want him to touch me so badly I can taste it. But I know he’s not going to. He’s making it perfectly clear that he’s enjoying this.
Shifting, I try to take matters into my own hands, searching out that delicious friction all on my own. I lean forward, kissing him, soft, slow, then drag my hips forward, but Ewan catches on, yanking his hand back.
“Tsk, naughty girl…”
Fuuuuuck…
“I mean it, Maisey,” he says, his voice low and deep. It sends a rumble through me, one I feel deep in my soul, settling where I need it the most. “I want to hear all about how you touch yourself. What gets you there. What makes your toes curl and that perfect pussy of yours wet.”
You…
I swallow hard, buying time to catch my breath to answer him. Sliding my hand down my body, I slip it into my panties, right where his was, but unlike him, I don’t stop. I go all the way, my fingers finding my wet curls, sliding through my slickness to the part of me that is aching to be touched.
Ewan groans watching me, letting me play for a second, fire flashing in his eyes.
“I like to start slow,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. Sucking in a deep breath, I shift again, trying to get a better angle.
Until Ewan stops me.
Grabbing my wrist, he lifts my hand, sliding it out from between us and lifting it to his mouth. One by one, he takes my fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean—savoring the taste of me right off them.
Oh, holy hell…
“Show me.”
In a flash, he flips us over, easing me onto my back on the floor of the tent. He looms over me, his large frame blocking most of the light from outside the tent, the fluorescent glow just enough to crack through the moment and remind me where we are.
The Booby Trap.
“Here? Now?” Panic whips through me, the reminder that the store is technically still open suddenly flashing through my brain like a neon billboard. “What if someone comes upstairs? Dennis?”
Ewan winks, turning around and zipping up the door flap to the tent, closing us in.
I laugh, my heart soaring at his ingenuity.
There’s a part of me that still wants to argue that Dennis or a customer could walk upstairs and see that something is going on in the tent, but if Ewan isn’t bothered, then neither am I.
“Now, where were we?” he asks, turning back to me, hands on my hips, yanking my pants off me. “Oh, that’s right. You were going to show me how you play with your pretty little pussy.”
I’ve never understood the appeal of dirty talk, all of it sounding silly whenever my friends have talked about it. But here, now, listening to those words come from Ewan, I’d do whatever he asked to make him say them again and again.
“You wanna see?”
I prop myself up on my elbows so that I can see Ewan, spreading my legs so that all of me is on display.
A new set of nerves reveal themselves as Ewan’s eyes dance over my body, slowly drinking me in.
It may not be the first time he’s seen me naked—or even the first time he’s touched me—but it’s the first time I’ve ever offered myself up like this.
Shown someone this side of me and allowed them into this space. Let myself be vulnerable.
I can’t imagine it being anyone other than Ewan.
He nods, eyes still glued to me, like I’m the Venus de Milo. Or the Mona Lisa. Or some other priceless work of art.
“I like to start slow. Gentle, light touches, working my way from my outside in,” I tell him, reaching in between my legs and starting to trace along the outside of my pussy. “I’ll play up here sometimes, but mostly focus down here.”
Slowly, I circle my clit, trying to avoid direct contact, knowing that I’m not ready for this to be over.
My heart pounds in my chest, each beat of it felt throughout my body, the rhythm of it setting a pace for me as I move.
I get lost in the beat, in my movements, the pleasure starting to take over, keeping my eyes on Ewan the whole time.
There’s something new and erotic about him watching me do this. Something that has always been so private. So intimate. Now it’s something shared.
Letting out a groan, Ewan’s eyes darken and he moves, breaking our eye contact for a second. I gasp, but he’s right there a second later, swallowing that gasp with his kiss, covering my hand with his.
“Tell me, baby,” he says, his mouth right at my ear, his voice sounding borderline feral. “What are you thinking about when you do this?”
I swallow hard. Truth time.
“You. Always you.”
Ewan growls, the sound no longer borderline.
It’s full-on feral. Like a man possessed, his focus dialed all the way in, he takes my wrists and pins them above my head, holding them in place with one hand while the other skims down my naked body.
The move unlocks something in me, eliciting a shiver somewhere deep, my soul cracking open.
Ready and willing to do whatever he wants. As long as he keeps touching me.
“Fuck, you are gorgeous, Maisey.”
His kiss is potent, powerful, and full of so much raw emotion I can’t help but reciprocate, pouring everything I have into this moment. Into him. Wanting to make it last.
“The thought of you playing with yourself, thinking of me…fuuuuck,” he growls, nipping at my earlobe. “But here’s the thing, baby, all those better orgasms, are about to move down the list. There’s a new sheriff in town.”
I have no doubt…
I start to respond—make a smart-ass comment about the new sheriff—until Ewan moves his free hand, slipping it in between my legs and sliding a finger inside me.
“Faaaa!”