Chapter Twenty-Five
Oliver
“Come get me.” Lemon’s voice bounces off the trees. “Better hope a river monster doesn’t find me first. I’ve read some good books that start that way!”
Brat!
I can be fun. Spontaneous, or what have you.
I can break rules and do dangerous, exciting things.
But this is beyond my comfort zone.
“You’ve had your fun. Let’s go back,” I whisper shout. “This whole forest could be under surveillance.”
“You’re paranoid.”
The moon lights her entire body against the dark water behind her. It’s slow, a steady spot with little to no current, and the way she runs her fingers through her hair before it falls over her bare shoulder drives me primitive.
Growling. Craving.
Breaking rules.
Thinking and doing things I’ve never dared to say aloud.
I want to taste you again.
“You’re breathtaking,” I say instead.
She parts her lips on a grin, a laugh bubbling free, and I want nothing more than to taste that very part of her.
Keep it.
Her body trembles like mine as I approach her, and we both admit with a shared glance that this moment is the one we’ve been avoiding.
“The person I thought you were,” I start, aiming to apologize, to atone for ever thinking she was less than the powerful, intelligent woman she is, “I was wrong. Your father is wrong. You could do so much for the company, and—”
“You’re doing a lot of talking for someone whose breath I supposedly took.” She scrapes her teeth over her bottom lip, eyes shining with a dare. “If you want it back, come get it.”
She dives into the water, the calm and quiet of before shattered to chaos in her wake.
I’m alone for an instant before she bobs to the surface, shaking her hair from her face. She grins like she’s just won a million bucks, floating naked on a muddy shore. But considering she already had a million bucks, maybe this experience is the prize to her.
“Come in!” She splashes me from below, and I must admit, the cold water feels rejuvenating on my sticky skin. “Suit yourseeeelf,” she sings on a backstroke. “But I’m getting clean, and you’re still wearing Shaylyn’s lunch, maybe even breakfast.”
“Not a good image.”
“Not a good smell, either,” she quips.
“You’re just replacing the puke with parasites,” I tell her, examining the sign by the dock. “See? It’s part of a reservoir.” I point to the sign. “Look, it says it’s a water moccasin habitat.”
“Oh, come on.” She switches to breaststroke. “I’ve been swimming in this very spot since I was a teenager, and I’ve never been made aware of any snakes or parasites.”
“It literally says right here that you could encounter both snakes and—”
Splash!
I float to the surface after being yanked in by the temptress of the river, and all I can do is glare incredulously as I spit algae-ridden water from my mouth. “The sign says…fuck it.” I slap the water in defeat.
She giggles, pleased with her victory. “I love it when you say fuck.”
“I know.” I roll my eyes at her this time, and she throws her head back on a cackle, her signature of pure joy. “I love your laugh.” I draw her in and wrap her legs around my floating body.
“I’ve got you.”
“You do?”
Our eyes lock beneath the stars.
“Yeah. I do.”
The wind skips across the water, and she pulls me closer, her hardened nipples brushing my chest.
I free my hand and touch her there, and my cock pulses to life when she whimpers. I linger, and she moans, neither moving nor stilling, just breathing and squeezing as she rocks her body against me.
I wait for her to tell me what she wants.
“Please, Oliver.”
It’s all I need before I’m rolling her nipple between my fingers. Her head falls back, and I use my other hand to find the soft, wanting spot between her legs, the one clung to my wet body.
I play for a moment, squeezing and tugging, touching everywhere but the spot I know she wants.
“Fucking, please, Oliver! Nash! Daddy! Oh!”
“Don’t call me daddy.” I pinch her clit. “Naughty fucking nanny.”
“Then what do I call you?” She gasps.
“Yours.” I move to where I can stand and hold her close, drawing circles on her clit with my thumb. “Call me yours, Lem.”
“Mine, Oliver. Fuck!”
I thrust my middle and ring finger inside of her, nearly losing my balance when she clenches around them.
“You’re mine,” she says again.
I capture her mouth, exploring the spaces with my tongue until a long, pleasured moan escapes her. “You like it when I do this?”
“Yes.” She begs me. “Please, Oliver, keep doing it.”
“Fuck, I love the way you say my name.” I thrust my pointer finger in beside the other two, filling her up until she cries my name on loop. “Juicy little Lemon, all for me.”
Her head drops to the side, and she presses her neck to my mouth, arching into my tongue and giving me full access. “So tight around my fingers,” I say into her ear with a nibble. “Think I need something bigger to juice it properly.”
She tightens her hold around my hand with each dirty phrase I speak, and even though it’s not part of who I was, I’m finding it’s certainly easy to make it a part of the man I’m becoming, my cock hardening impossibly more with the dominance I hadn’t known I possessed.
For her.
“This pussy is mine, isn’t it?” I stroke my fingers in and out, curling to hit the spot that makes her squeeze and sing my praises.
We wade to the dock, and I peel the wet clothes from my body.
Lemon, ever the performance artist, uses it as her private runway, taking the stage in the moonlight and draping her body across the planks dramatically.
And bare to me.
Neither of us says a word as I climb on top, dripping over her. Her hair fans around her body, tangled and wild, the way I’ve always known her to be.
This is the Lemon I love, so I tell her.
You never know when you won’t get to say that to someone again.
“I love you, Lemon Perkins.”
She sighs, but it’s relief in her eyes, not disdain.
Not mistrust.
I see only reflected love, and I wrap my tongue around hers, teasing the moans and whimpers from within when I bite and suck on her bottom lip.
Her neck.
Then her chest.
I feed each nipple into my mouth, until I’m alternating between the two, her flesh pressed together, the hard peaks, a delicacy in my mouth. Moans and curses break free, and I slide my hand back down, palming my shaft that’s growing harder and heavier each time her bare pussy presses into my thigh.
I frown at my cock, a first for me. But with how tight she was around my fingers, I suddenly worry she might not be wet enough for more.
Lemon’s eyes sparkle as her body remains pinned beneath me. Her head is just inches from my hard on. “Do you want me to spit on it?” She bites her lip then adds breathlessly, “Oliver.”
“Jesus,” is all I get out before she does just that.
She sucks and twists, feeding my cock into her mouth, encouraging my thrusts, praising me between mouthfuls, and lapping until I’m not sure if she’s the one in control or me.
I wrap my fingers through her hair to hold her head steady, and her eyes gloss with lust when I take over, screwing her face. She moans around my erection, her throat tight and tense, and the pressure threatens to break me at any moment.
But… “No!” I growl, whipping my cock from her mouth, the animalistic beast from before clawing back out of me as I force her down and lick a trail to her ear and insert a finger in her sweet, dripping cunt. “I want to be inside of this when I come.”
Her eyes light when I lean her back and kiss her center before I position myself at the entrance.
“Before we do this,” I say, “I may have loved other women before you, but I haven’t done this with anyone but…her.”
Lemon’s eyes gloss as she draws a breath, but they don’t leave mine. Not to worry, or cast judgement, or compare herself to the ghost she’ll never be.
She simply slides my cock deeper.
A single thrust is all we need to join completely.
“Like I said, we’re a yin yang,” she whispers. “I have done this with a lot of people before you, but you’re the only one I’ve ever loved.”