Chapter Five #3
He unbuckled his belt. His jeans came down. His boxer briefs followed. He was hard already, his cock thick and flushed, and the sight of him wanting me in open daylight went straight through my spine.
I shimmied out of my jeans and underwear. For one second I was standing on a dock in full sun, completely naked, in the open air, with nothing between me and the sky and the water and this man. No Saloon walls. No string lights. No shadows to soften the edges.
He looked at me how he’d looked at me through the camera on Wednesday, except there was no lens between us now. Just air and light and the water lapping the dock.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” he said, and his voice had dropped into the low rough register that pulled tight between my thighs.
“Flattery later. Water now.”
I jumped. The lake closed over me warm and green and I surfaced laughing, my hair plastered flat to my head, water streaming down my face.
It was heated from the June sun and silky against my skin.
Wade hit the water two seconds later and came up shaking water from his hair in every direction.
The spray caught me full in the face. I shoved water at him and he grabbed my wrist and pulled me against him and our wet bodies slid together and his mouth found mine.
He kissed me hard. No slow build. His tongue pushed past my lips and I opened for him and his hands gripped my hips under the water and pulled me flush against him. His cock pressed hot and rigid against my belly and I rolled my hips into him and felt him groan into my mouth.
“I missed you,” I said against his lips. “It was one day and I missed you and I’m furious about it.”
“Be furious later.” He kissed my throat, the hinge of my jaw, the spot below my ear where my knees lived and died. His hands slid up my ribs and cupped my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples, and the water lapped around us while my head fell back and the sky wheeled bright and wide above me.
I reached under the water and wrapped my hand around his cock.
He hissed through his teeth. I stroked him slow, feeling him pulse against my palm, thick and heavy and impossibly hard.
The water moved between our bodies and his hips rocked forward into my grip and his mouth fell open against my shoulder.
I tightened my fist and he groaned, raw and low, and I decided right then that I was going to collect every sound this man could make and I was not going to be polite about it.
“Layla.” His voice had dropped to gravel. “What are you—”
“Touching you.” I ran my thumb over the head and his whole body jerked. “I spent thirty-six hours convinced I’d never get to do this again. So I’m taking my time.”
His forehead dropped to mine. His breath came rough against my lips while I worked him underwater, learning the ridge at the crown, the thick vein on the underside, how his abs clenched every time I twisted my wrist. His hands tightened on my hips hard enough to leave prints and I wanted them. I wanted his fingerprints on my skin.
I pushed him backward until his shoulders hit the limestone shelf at the edge of the lake.
The rock was flat and sun-warmed and he braced against it and I pressed into him, my breasts against his chest, the water at our waists.
I kissed him deep and dirty and his hands grabbed my ass and squeezed and a sound came out of me that scattered a bird from the nearest oak.
“Sit up on the rock,” I said.
He looked at me. The heat in his eyes was dark and intent.
“Layla—”
“Sit up on the rock.”
He pulled himself up onto the limestone ledge.
The late sun caught him. His wet chest, his thick thighs spread, his cock hard and curved toward his stomach.
Water dripped from his hair down his neck.
He was a frame I would have kept if I’d had my camera, except I didn’t want my camera. I wanted my mouth.
I braced my hands on his thighs and took him in.
He swore, sharp and bitten off. I sucked him slow, savoring the weight of him on my tongue, the salt-and-skin taste, how his thigh muscles went rigid under my palms. I took him deeper and his hand found the back of my head, not pushing, just holding. His fingers tangled in my wet hair.
“Layla.” His voice was gutted. “Your mouth — fuck.”
I pulled back and swirled my tongue over the head and he jerked in my grip. I did it again, slower, watching his stomach clench. I wanted to take him apart how he’d taken me apart on Wednesday. I wanted him shaking.
He was shaking. His breath came ragged, his head dropping back, his hand tightening in my hair. I sucked him deep and held, listening to the sounds he made carry across the water, off the limestone, into the empty trees.
“Stop,” he said, rough. “Come up here. I need — Layla, come here.”
I pulled off with one last drag that made him curse. He reached down and lifted me onto the ledge beside him and then he was over me, pressing me back against the heated stone, his wet body covering mine.
“My turn,” he said at my ear, and his mouth started down my throat.
He kissed between my breasts, his stubble rough against the soft skin.
He kissed my ribs, the curve of my waist — pausing on my stomach, pressing his mouth to it with a deliberateness that made my breath catch.
Then lower. He settled between my thighs on the sun-heated rock and I could feel his breath against me and my hips lifted before he touched me.
“Look at you,” he murmured. “Out here in the sun. Nothing hiding.” His thumbs spread me open and his mouth landed hot and sure on my clit and I gasped.
He licked me slow. Long, flat strokes with the width of his tongue, then tighter circles until my toes curled against the rough limestone.
The sun pressed on my breasts and the rock held fast under my back and his mouth was warm between my legs and I was surrounded by heat, drowning in it.
He sucked my clit gently and slid two fingers inside me and curled them and my hips came off the rock.
“Wade — oh God—”
“Let me hear you.” He fucked me with his fingers, slow and deep, his tongue working my clit in circles. “Nobody out here but us. Let me hear everything.”
I let him hear everything. The sounds I made echoed off the water and the trees and I didn’t care.
His mouth was relentless, his fingers finding a rhythm that built the pressure low in my belly into something unbearable.
He flattened his tongue and pressed hard against my clit and twisted his fingers and I broke.
The orgasm rolled through me in long, shuddering waves. I arched off the stone and grabbed his hair and cried out, and he held me through it, his mouth gentling but not leaving, easing me down with soft licks that sent aftershocks through my thighs.
He didn’t pull away. His mouth stayed on me, lighter now, teasing, tracing lazy circles while the aftershocks still pulsed. I was trembling, oversensitive, every nerve lit up, and when he sealed his lips around my clit again and sucked gently I nearly came off the rock.
“You are so beautiful right now,” he said against me. “The sounds you make. I could stay right here until you can’t remember your own name.”
“I can’t remember it now.” My voice came out wrecked.
He laughed, low and rough, and the vibration of it against my clit sent a spike of pleasure through me that bowed my spine.
His fingers curled inside me again and his tongue pressed flat and firm and this time the orgasm built faster, sharper, cresting before I could brace for it.
I came with my heels dug into the limestone and his name carrying across the water, and his groan against my pussy sent one last shock through me that left me boneless.
Before I’d finished trembling he slid up my body and kissed me. I tasted myself on his tongue and his cock was hard against my thigh and I wanted him inside me with an urgency that felt like hunger.
“Now,” I said. “Wade, now.”
He pulled back to look at me. “You sure?”
“If you ask me that one more time I’m going to drown you in this lake.”
He laughed against my mouth. Then he braced one hand on the rock beside my head and used the other to guide himself to my entrance. He pushed in slow, and the stretch and the heat and the fullness of him pulled a moan from somewhere deep in my chest.
He filled me completely. I was swollen and sensitive from his mouth and every nerve was firing. He held still for a second, his forehead pressed to mine, both of us breathing. The late sun slanted gold across the water and turned his wet skin to bronze.
Then he moved.
He fucked me with the urgency of a man who had almost lost this and knew it. His hips drove into me, deep and deliberate, and each thrust hit a spot that blurred everything at the edges. I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him deeper and we found a rhythm that was rough and honest and ours.
“You’re so tight,” he said against my throat. “You feel so good. Fuck, Layla, you feel—”
“Harder.”
He gave me harder. His hand gripped my hip, tilting me so his cock hit deeper.
I dug my nails into his back and he growled against my collarbone and drove in again with a force that pressed the breath out of me.
I wanted all of it. I wanted the bruises.
I wanted to feel this tomorrow and the day after that, proof that I’d chosen to be here, naked on a rock in full daylight, with nothing to hide behind.
“You’re mine tonight,” I said, and the words surprised both of us. His eyes snapped to mine. I held his gaze and rolled my hips up into him and his breath shattered. “On that stage, in front of everyone. Mine.”