Chapter Seventeen
Wade couldn’t get enough of her.
One kiss, and he was a wild man. She tasted sweet and tart, like lemonade, and her mouth fit perfectly against his.
Her body fit, too, pressing close in a delicious mix of cool fabric and warm skin.
His hands went straight to the supple curves he’d been admiring all day.
The soaked fabric offered very little resistance.
He’d been aroused since the first time she’d bent over in that flimsy skirt.
Now he raked the skirt up with both hands and filled his palms with her wet bottom, which felt as delectable as it looked.
With a low groan, he deepened the kiss, plundering her sweet mouth.
She didn’t protest his roving hands, overenthusiastic kiss, or the jut of his erection as he ground his lower half against hers.
On the contrary, she made sounds of encouragement.
Her fingers tangled in his hair as she moaned and pulled him closer.
She trembled in his arms, as if she couldn’t get enough of him, either.
God. She was hot.
He broke the kiss to drag his mouth down her throat.
He wanted to taste her everywhere. He wanted to strip off those wet panties and take her right here.
He didn’t, because he had just enough self-awareness left to realize that banging her in the middle of a rocky creek would be a mistake.
It wouldn’t be comfortable, and he might lose his footing.
Instead of taking off her panties, he lifted her into his arms, carried her out of the water, and set her on the picnic blanket.
She appreciated his chivalry, judging by the way she gazed up at him.
Her cheeks were passion-flushed, her lips parted.
He fell on her, taking her mouth again hungrily.
His thrusting tongue and hips weren’t very gentlemanly, but she showed only approval.
She kissed him back and wrapped her strong legs around his waist. Her skirt had ridden up to reveal her damp panties.
He fit himself into the notch of her thighs and cursed the barriers between them.
His hands roamed her curves as he took her mouth again and again.
He groped bare skin everywhere he could find it.
Her breasts felt plump and firm against his chest, her nipples beaded beneath the thin tank top.
Desperate to free her breasts, he grappled with the fabric.
She broke the kiss to offer her assistance by wrestling the top over her head.
He didn’t even have time to admire her lacy bra before she unhooked the clasp and tossed it aside.
Wade almost swallowed his tongue at the sight of her bare breasts.
In the dappled sunlight beneath the oak tree, with her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
She had pale, petal-soft skin and nipples the color of strawberry ice cream.
He cupped her breasts tenderly, rubbing his thumbs over the ripe tips.
Then he bent his head to lick and suck at her stiff little nipples.
Her body was driving him crazy. His cock throbbed like a sore thumb.
With a groan, he rolled onto his back and brought her on top of him.
She settled onto his hard length with a gasp of pleasure.
He was shockingly close to his breaking point, and he hadn’t even taken off her panties.
With fumbling hands, he shoved her skirt higher.
Her panties were a lavender color, and sheer enough to reveal the pretty triangle beneath.
He stared at the junction of her thighs as she rubbed herself along his erection.
He wondered if she could come this way, with gentle grinding, and he liked the idea of watching that happen. He also liked the idea of unzipping his pants and burying himself in her. As he considered both options, a warning bell sounded in his mind.
He couldn’t bury himself inside her, because he hadn’t brought protection. He didn’t have any condoms on him.
For a brief moment, he considered forging ahead anyway.
Maybe she was on birth control. Even if she wasn’t, she’d just had her period, so there was little chance of pregnancy.
He’d never had unprotected sex in his life, but he wanted that now.
He moistened his lips, imagining her slick heat on his bare cock.
He squeezed his eyes shut and lifted her away from him before he could make a choice they’d both regret.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t have a condom.”
“Oh.”
Summoning self-control, he met her gaze. There was no reason to call a halt to the fun just because he hadn’t prepared properly. They could proceed with caution. “Let me touch you. No penetration.”
“What if someone comes?”
“Hopefully someone will.”
She slapped his shoulder lightly. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I’ll keep an eye out,” he promised, glancing toward the trail. They were behind the tree, obscured by low branches. If anyone approached, which was unlikely, he could cover her with his shirt and feign innocence.
She nibbled her lower lip, hesitant. He kissed her again, eager to please, and she surrendered with an ease that made his chest swell.
She twined her tongue around his shyly. He told himself that it wasn’t him; she hadn’t been touched by a man in a long time, and she was a young, healthy woman with physical needs.
He told himself that but didn’t believe it.
There was more between them than uncontrollable lust.
But right now, uncontrollable lust was good. It was so very good.
He stripped away her panties but left her skirt on.
Then he slid his hand between her legs and rested it there gently.
She shivered at the sensation. Just this, the act of cupping his palm over her, was intensely thrilling and meaningful.
She was allowing him access to her most intimate places.
She trusted him, despite her past experiences, to be sensitive. She wanted him to give her pleasure.
He wouldn’t disappoint her.
Heart pounding, he traced the cleft of her sex with his fingertips.
He used a slow hand, petting and stroking her lightly.
The soft furrow dampened, and his cock pulsed with every beat of his heart.
He was so turned on he felt lightheaded.
Gritting his teeth against the urge to plunder her hard and fast, he forced himself to wait.
When she’d acclimated to his touch, he went further.
She panted with excitement as he parted her slick folds and explored her.
She was slippery-wet and achingly sweet.
He slid the tip of his finger around her opening. Her mouth made a soft moue of arousal.
Encouraged by her response, he dipped inside, just barely.
Then he brought two fingers to her clitoris and made slow circles.
She gripped his forearm, silently pleading for more.
He didn’t have to do much to bring her close to the edge.
She was swollen and hot and ready. He slid his fingertips along her cleft, up and down and in and out.
Instead of plunging deep, he withdrew his fingers. He wanted to taste her, and smell her, and suck her. He rubbed the moisture from his fingers onto her nipples, making them glisten. Then he licked them delicately.
She groaned, her breaths ragged with need.
She didn’t object when he kissed her quivering stomach and moved lower.
When he put his mouth on her sex, she thrust her hands in his hair and held him there.
Drawing out her pleasure wasn’t an option.
She started coming the instant he swirled his tongue over her clitoris.
She cried out, bucking against his mouth and making him feel like he’d won the orgasm lottery.
He gentled her with sucking kisses, enjoying the taste of her honey on his tongue.
When she went quiet, and her body relaxed into bliss, he lifted his head to study her.
The sight of her female flesh, pink and ruffled and dewy, made him painfully hard.
If he didn’t get immediate relief, he would die.
He unbuttoned his fly with one hand and brought his wet fingers to his straining length.
She watched him through half-lidded eyes as he touched himself. He didn’t expect to last, and he didn’t. Ten strokes later, he was close to release. He grabbed her discarded panties and spilled into them with a low groan.
He slumped against the blanket, spent. He lay there for a minute or two, reeling with satisfaction. With great effort, he roused from his stupor. He buttoned his fly and went to rinse her panties in the creek. Then he brought the lacy drawers back to her.
She put on his shirt and hung the panties on a tree branch to dry, along with her tank top. She returned to his side and lay down on the blanket. He reclined with his arm around her, at peace with the world. Her damp garments fluttered in the breeze.
“That was…”
“Hot?” he supplied.
“Depraved.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Wade pressed his lips to her hair. She’d obviously enjoyed herself, and she was currently soft and pliant in his arms. Her comment sounded more like a compliment than a reproach.
Still, he wondered what he’d done to shock her.
They were outdoors but alone. They’d engaged in fairly standard foreplay, in his opinion, and a mildly crude finish.
“Tri … I mean, Travis, wasn’t very creative.”
“He didn’t go down on you?”
She shook her head. “He didn’t do much of anything. I think he preferred arguing. He didn’t want sex very often.”
“Like, once a week?”
“Once a month, at most.”
Wade couldn’t imagine having unlimited access to this woman and declining to take her. “Did he say why?”
“No.”
“You don’t think it was your fault, do you?”
“No,” she said, sounding pensive. “I know he grew up in an abusive home. He absorbed that way of interacting and perpetuated it. He didn’t learn how to give pleasure or show love. He just learned how to hurt people.”