20. Ransom
20
RANSOM
T hen .
“I’m not losing my virginity in the back of a truck.”
Claire folds her arms as she stares into my truck bed.
I hop up. “No. You’re not. We are.”
I made it all romantic and everything.
A nice, soft quilt lines the back of the truck, stuffed with pillows. I rolled out a sleeping bag on the bottom of the bed to even out the ridges. There’s a basket with cheese, crackers, and strawberries and a sparkling cider. A bouquet of flowers is wrapped up beside it, and a lantern spills soft light on the whole spread.
I think it’s cozy. But Claire’s got the edge of her mouth turned downward.
I like the way she frowns. Makes me wanna kiss the frown right off her face.
I pat the spot next to me. “Room for one more. ”
She gives in. I extend my hand, and she takes it. I help her up into the bed. Her dress is spotted with daisies, and it bunches up around her legs as she crawls in beside me.
We lie down together, side by side, and stare up at the sky. It’s streaked with pink and orange.
“You see that?” I ask.
“See what?”
“You know, anytime I feel trapped or lost or just… hell, I’m gonna die in Belleflower …I just look up. We’re lucky to live here. It’s one of the last places in the world you can feel the wild in your bones.”
When I turn to Claire, she’s staring at me. Those gray eyes have a hint of curiosity in them.
Her chest rises and falls with small breaths. My heart patters.
“You know,” I say, “we don’t have to?—”
She stops me with a kiss.
I love Claire’s kisses.
Claire Preacher is the picture of poise. Pretty, round face. Blonde hair all pulled back. Plump lips and a stern mouth. Not a hair out of place.
But when she kisses, she throws her entire body into it. It’s like breaking a dam, and suddenly, she’s a desperate, hungry thing.
I cup her head. I roll us over so I’m on top of her. She sighs into my mouth, and that sound is an angel’s song.
Her fingers make quick work of the buttons on my shirt. I push her dress up and feel the warm, creamy skin of her thigh. She unclasps my belt buckle and unbuttons me.
“I want to feel it,” she says.
I give her permission. “Go on.”
She slips her hand underneath my briefs. I groan when her soft, warm fingers envelop me. She pulls my hard length through her fingers, slowly, learning me. It takes everything within me not to rut into her palm.
She grins. I love that smile. “Riley Ransom, you’re perfect.”
Hell. My heart does a flip.
She’s the only person in the world who can say those words and make me believe them.
Her touch leaves me. She raises her hips and pushes her panties off her legs.
“I want it inside of me.”
A breeze ripples, and cornstalks hiss. I’ve parked the truck in the middle of a field, where no one will walk in on us. It’s better than having our own room. That’s what I tell myself.
Nothing but me, Claire, and the stars here.
I reach between her legs. She’s molten here, wet and hot. I slip my fingers around her slit and find her entrance. When I press a finger inside, she moans, her eyes rolling back.
I could do this all night. I don’t want her to ever stop moaning.
She grabs the collar of my open shirt and pulls me against her. Her lips crush mine, and then she murmurs against them, “Need you.”
Give the lady what she wants.
I remove my hand from her sweetness and guide my cock against her instead. My heart is beating out of my chest.
“Ready?” I ask her.
She grins. “Are you?” She pets her fingers through my hair. “You’re shaking.”
“Chills,” I lie. “It’s cold.”
“Let me warm you up.” She drags the tip of her tongue from the base of my chest, over my Adam’s apple, and up my chin. She sucks my bottom lip into her mouth.
My cock jumps in my hand. I hear myself grunt.
“Yes,” she says. “I’m ready.”
Slowly, I ease myself inside of her. Her sweet heat is so tight she clutches the head of me. I push in further, and she gasps. I stop.
“You okay?” I ask.
Her mouth twists. “It hurts.”
I pant against her lips. “Just a couple more inches, princess. You’re doing so good.”
Her eyes go wide. “There’s more ?”
I can’t help it. I snort on a laugh. “Put that on my gravestone.”
That earns me a stinger on my cheek. “Don’t be funny right now.”
“Okay. Sorry. Here.” I take her hand and guide it onto my shoulder. “Dig your nails in when it hurts. Real hard. Don’t be shy.” I meet her gaze. “If you hurt, I hurt.”
Her expression softens at that. Her fingers curl at my shoulder, those nails digging in at the crook of my neck.
I shiver at the prick of pain. “That’s good. Keep going,” I tell her. “We’re in this together.”
Claire’s breath patters against my lips. I push in the rest of the way. Her nails shred my shoulders, my back. Her mouth connects with my throat, and she bites. I groan, arching into her ferocious affection. I roll my hips against hers, and she mewls—but those are pleasure noises now. Her legs wrap around me tightly, and she pushes her hips against mine, meeting me thrust for thrust. We roll together, riding each other, ripping and licking and clawing and kissing—messy, hungry love.
My brain is in my balls. Words start spilling from me .
“Fuck, princess, you feel so good.”
“So do you.” Her breath is light and flutters against my sweat-damp skin.
“I’ll never be inside another woman,” I tell her.
Those gray eyes flash. “You promise?”
“I promise. It’s you. Only you.”
Her body goes tight around me suddenly. So tight. Her head falls back, and she cries out, her nails making welts in my back. I moan and spill over as she throbs around me, pulling, draining my pleasure from me.
I pant into her shoulder. She laughs. It’s this light, airy sound.
“I ruined your back,” she says.
“I ruined your hymen. We’re even.”
Her eyes lock on mine. Those beautiful, wild grays.
I can see my entire future in those eyes.
“I hate you,” she says. But I know she means the other thing.
I slip my hand in hers. She laces her fingers in mine.
“I know,” I tell her.
We lie there, kissing and touching, until the stars fall out of the sky.