20. Dove #2
The pressure and stretch of Josh’s finger was more than welcome, coaxing the desire in my belly to grow as his thumb rubbed over my clit maddeningly slow.
“Tell me what you need,” he demanded, pairing it with a slow curl of his finger inside me that had me whimpering and squirming in his hold.
There he was again, asking me to say these things. I shook my head, hitching my hips into the press of his finger.
“That’s it,” he encouraged. “Is one finger enough? Will that get you there, little dove?”
I whimpered at his words, at that damn nickname, at his voice I barely recognized, dripping in sin and sex.
But the answer was it wasn’t enough. There was still an ache in me his finger wasn’t filling, and the lazy press of his thumb wasn’t doing it for me, only sliding over my clit when I nudged my hips forward.
“ No .”
“No? I wonder what could fix that,” he wondered, sounding amused.
“More fingers,” I gasped, the heat building inside me nothing compared to the heat spreading across my face. I hid, tucking my face into the crook of my arm as my hips continued to move, shamelessly chasing something that still wasn’t enough.
“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Satisfaction dripped from his smug voice. “All you have to do is ask.”
Another finger slid into me, and I bit down on my lip, the pain from that overriding the stinging stretch of his fingers. It faded quickly into pleasure as he crooked them, hitting that perfect spot inside of me I struggled to find on my own.
“Oh,” I breathed. “ Josh. ”
He shuddered, face nuzzling against my temple. “That’s it, baby—say my name.”
My hips moved frantically, his fingers making obscene noises as he withdrew them only to thrust them back in.
“Do you do this to yourself?” he asked, but I was too busy panting into my arm to answer. I gave the slightest nod instead. “Do you think of me when you do it?”
His voice was demanding, punctuated by the rapid twist of his fingers deep within me as he pressed them harder against that spot that had me seeing stars.
“ Yes ,” I moaned—to his question, to the feeling of his fingers filling me, to all of it.
My hands were released suddenly as he dropped his down to my aching breasts, rolling a peaked nipple between a thumb and forefinger.
My arms, heavy and near numb from the position they’d been in for so long, came down around his shoulders.
I all but draped myself over him, holding onto his strong shoulders as my hips moved with his fingers.
He adjusted his grip, forcing his fingers deeper as the palm of his hand hit my clit every time I rocked forward. Whimpers fell from my lips as pleasure rippled down my spine every time I moved.
“I know,” Josh purred, his voice so thick it was nearly unrecognizable. He pushed me back, his body crowding me against the wall until all I was surrounded with was the hot heat of him and the rising tension in my core. “Come for me, baby.”
He cupped me, grinding his palm into me a little rougher, the callouses on his hand creating a perfect friction in all the right spots, while his fingers glided in and out of me with ease considering how wet I was, right on the edge of coming.
My arms tightened around his neck, my mouth open and panting against the collar of his shirt until all that pleasure intensified until it finally crested, and I cried out, shaking apart in his arms as it devoured me.
I trembled with aftershocks as he nursed every last bit of my orgasm until the bright white heat ended, leaving me spent. Only then did he stop.
I winced as his fingers slipped out of me with a wet sound, his fingers glistening in the moonlight as they pulled free from my shorts. He lifted them up to lick them clean, and I had to look away, using the moment to button my shorts because I was too embarrassed to watch him do that.
Even after everything.
Which reminded me, it was his turn now.
Before he could say or do anything, I was kissing him fervently, licking the taste of myself from his mouth as my hands trailed down his front toward his belt buckle.
There was nothing more I wanted to do than see what noises I could draw from him .
“Dove, you don’t?—”
“ Josh?” a feminine voice called, barely heard over the rain as it continued its onslaught outside. The heat within me turned to ice at that familiar voice. “Josh, are you in there?”
I reared back, hurt and anger flaring in me so suddenly it was almost painful.
“You invited her here?” I asked incredulously.
“What?” Josh looked just as alarmed as me. “No! Of course not, Dove.”
Well, Stella was here either way. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten what I’d seen at the bar. That he’d been with her, dancing with her as easily as he’d danced with me.
God, I was so stupid.
“Clearly she’s here for something .”
“She cornered me at the bar,” Josh said, looking uncomfortable. “She was hoping we could pick up where we left off.”
“I know,” I snapped. “I saw you together.”
His eyebrows furrowed. “We weren’t together , Dove.” Then a thought seemed to dawn on him. “Is that why you brought Torrence Weller home?”
He said the man’s name as if it was shit beneath his shoe. I ignored that last part, crossing my arms. “That’s not what it looked like to me.”
I knew I was being petulant, but fuck. She was here . Meaning she clearly felt something between them, enough to follow him home. Perhaps expecting the same treatment Josh had given me just moments ago.
“Nothing happened , Dove,” he assured me, tone firm. “I realized you left, so I went after you. Clearly, she followed me, looking for something I have no intention of giving her.”
“ Josh ,” came her whining voice, closer this time. “I’m getting soaked! Where are you!?”
Just like that, the fight left me. I didn’t want her to catch us together, disheveled and smelling like sex.
Maybe it would be better if he reunited with Stella. He could have her. He could be with her. What could we ever be but secret, stolen moments under the cover of darkness?
“Get Stella out of the rain,” I muttered wearily, stepping out of his reach.
My words were barely audible over the rain as I opened the barn door and escaped into the downpour.
“Happy Birthday, Josh.”