Chapter 20 #2
Our hands are then everywhere on each other.
I’m palming her breasts and ass, she drops hers to rub them over the bulge in my pants, and I gasp into her mouth.
She pulls at my shirt, and I rip it over my head.
I do the same with hers, revealing the simple white bra beneath. I slide the straps down, then the cups.
Her bare breasts rise and fall with shaky breaths, so perfect I have to pause just to look and drink her in. "God, Naomi..." My fingers trace the swell of flesh reverently, thumb brushing one pink peak until it tightens. Her answering gasp fires straight to my cock.
She arches into my touch even as her hands paw at my belt buckle.
The leather slides free with a hiss, our lips crashing together again between frantic breaths.
It's all teeth and tongue and too many clothes between us. I want to go slow—she deserves slow—but I can’t.
Not just because the dam has broken but because if I don’t move quickly, all the doubts I’m outrunning will catch up to me. That I'm too old for her. Too broken.
But I don’t want to stop. I can’t. I need to consume her.
Her palm skates down my bare chest, lower until her fingers are again stroking the hard line of me through my jeans.
My groan vibrates against her throat as I bite down gently where her pulse flutters like bird wings.
I help her pull my jeans down. It takes the two of us, since our lips and hands can’t pause even for a moment from being on each other’s bodies. When they’re off, and I’m down to just my boxer briefs, my erection straining against the cotton, I pick her up and place her on the mattress.
She breathes heavily as I pull down the tight fabric of her yoga pants.
Once I do, the momentum slows just like when I revealed her breasts.
For a moment, I can’t move. Can barely breathe.
The sight of her—just that simple white cotton already darkened, stretched taut over damp heat—makes my already rigid cock painfully hard.
I bend down. Inhale. When my tongue traces the soaked fabric, her hips jerk off the mattress. I can’t wait anymore. I hook my fingers in the sides of her panties and pull.
"Christ, Naomi," I growl as my fingers slip between her thighs and find her dripping. No teasing needed. She's already trembling on the edge. "Look at you."
For a heartbeat, I just look. At the way her thighs tremble, at the glistening proof of how bad she wants this. Wants me. My thumbs part her, and I lean down. I breathe her in again. And the first swipe of my tongue on her bare pussy wrings a broken cry from her throat.
"Walker! Oh God—"
Every sound she makes, every shudder of those perfect thighs against my ears, fuels the fire licking up my own spine. I work her with my lips and tongue until her hands fist in my hair hard enough to hurt, until her moans rise to desperate little pleas.
When her whole body tightens like a crossbow string ready to fire, I thrust two fingers inside, crooking them just so as my mouth sucks that sweet bud. She comes with a choked sob, her release flooding my tongue as I drink her down like a man dying of thirst.
"Walker, please—" I pull back and look up, licking her off my lips. "I need you inside me. Now.”
Her hands shove my briefs down my hips, my cock mercifully springing free. I hiss when her palm strokes me from root to tip. There's no finesse, just frantic strokes as our foreheads press together, breathing each other's air.
"You sure?" I rasp, even as my body screams to take her.
“I’ve never been so sure of anything, Walker. I need you inside me. And I have birth control covered. And I was just tested.”
"I haven’t done this in a long time," I confess, my voice rough with desire. "Which is to say, I’m clean. But also, I’m not promising a long ride if you catch my drift."
Naomi reaches down, gripping my length. I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to thrust into her hand. She looks up at me, her eyes wide with a mix of desire and apprehension. "You’re big," she says, her voice a husky whisper. "I’m-I’m not sure how long I can handle it anyway."
She places me at her entrance. I slide just a couple of inches inside her.
My eyes roll, and my head tips back, a groan pulled from me.
It’s not her who can’t handle it, it’s me.
Her pussy is too warm. Too wet. Too tight.
I’m not going to be able to thrust all the way in. I’ll die from the pleasure.
But her nails on my back are demanding, pulling. Her legs lock around my waist.
"More," she both pleads and demands.
I obey. I push myself in slowly, inch by inch.
Her inner muscles squeeze, choking me, but her pussy yields to my cock.
I bury myself to the hilt, and we both moan.
Stillness before I slide back out to my tip, and just before I’m about to fall out of her, I thrust back in.
This time, I’m not slow. I press my large body against her tiny one, my great arms wrapped around her, protecting her, caging her.
“Walker,” she breathes. And my name on her lips makes me a man possessed.
I pound into her. The headboard slams the wall in a reckless rhythm as I piston into her.
Every snap of my hips drives a broken sound from her lips—"Yes" and "More" and the wet slapping sounds of our sex joining.
Her breathing is mixed with pleasurable cries. They’re beginning to get faster, louder, and higher. I can hear her orgasm coming, which is good. I can’t hold off any longer; her pussy is milking my cock so deliciously.
“Naomi, come for me, darlin’.” I don’t growl or demand it. I say it gently. In a tone that says, "I’ve got you, baby." Now and always. But even though they’re not a command, the words have the effect I hope for.
She comes. Her back arches clear off the mattress, pressing against my belly.
There’s a primal scream that I swallow with my mouth pressed against hers.
The viselike clench of her pussy pulls my orgasm from me—blinding and violent.
My vision blurs, and now I’m moaning into her mouth, bucking my hips not in any sort of rhythm or control.
I’ve lost all control. My seed spills inside her, painting her inside walls.
When the last drop is out and the wave of pleasure subsides, I pull my mouth from hers and collapse on top of her. I’m careful not to put too much weight on her. But I want her body under mine. Contained. Protected.
Our bodies are slick with sweat. Our chests heave, desperately trying to pull air into our lungs.
I kiss her forehead. Her left temple. Her right. Her cheeks. I keep kissing every part I can reach while our bodies are still joined. I’m still inside her, but somehow, it’s not enough. I still want to worship every inch of this beautiful creature.
To thank her for making me whole. For giving me hope. For letting me give her pleasure and take mine in turn.
Naomi looks up at me, her eyes soft with satisfaction and something else—something deeper. "That was..." she begins, but words fail her.
"Yeah," I agree, a small smile playing at the corners of my mouth. "Yeah, it was."
We hold each other for a while. But the outside world, the dangerous situation we find ourselves in that was held at bay while we lived in our own little oasis of pleasure, comes creeping back in.
I have to do certain things to make sure my angel is safe. To make sure that she leaves here tomorrow unharmed and with all the evidence she needs to clear her name.
I press my lips to hers one last time and get up to get dressed. Naomi seems to realize it’s a goodbye kiss and grabs my arm. Her body had just been languid, clearly sated from the pleasure we just shared. But she’s suddenly alert, and her grip is desperate. “Where are you going?”
“I’m sorry, darlin’. I don’t want to leave you, but I have to go out. I’m going to run out of night, and there are things I need to prepare to make sure we can do this.”
"We can prepare together," she insists.
I gently take her hand from my arm and pull it to my lips, pressing a kiss to her palm before releasing it. "No. There are some things I need to do that only I can.”
She’s about to pick up and dust off the arguments she just made about not letting her help. I stop her before she can pick up speed. “You were right. I’m going to need your help tomorrow. But I need to prepare tonight. Alone.”
She stills. “You’re going to let me help?”
I nod. “I’m going to need it.”
“And you’re not running away?” She smiles like she’s joking. But naked save for the sheet wrapped around herself, I feel how vulnerable she is.
I shake my head slightly, a smile of surrender on my lips. “No, darlin’. I’m not running. You’ve captured me again. Heart, soul, and body. But I need to make sure that I've earned this." I gesture back and forth between us. "That I've earned you."
Her eyes soften. "That's not how this works. This isn't something you earn. It's something we both choose."
"Maybe." I move toward the door. "But I need to know I've done everything I can to keep you safe." I reach for my jacket. "Get some sleep. I'll be back in a couple of hours."
"Promise?" she asks with half a grin on her pretty face.
“I promise."
My hand is on the doorknob. But I turn and cover the room in two strides, planting my lips on hers once more; our tongues tangle, and our moans harmonize.
When the kiss ends, I say, “Lock the door, darlin’.”
“Don’t take too long.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” And I mean it. Because whatever happens tomorrow, whatever comes after, I’ll be with her. I've lived too long in darkness not to recognize the light when I find it.
When I exit the motel, something has shifted. Some of it is good, like what Naomi and I shared.
But in the cool desert night air, away from my angel, I feel something else.
Like there’s a clock ticking. I can’t explain why. So far, I don’t think we’ve been made.
But I feel something coming. Like the pressure changing before a storm.
And I want us to get what we need and get out of here before that storm comes crashing down on us.