Chapter 13 #2
My arms wrap around her middle and my breath leaves me in a long, satisfied sigh. I could get used to this.
I press my lips to the slope of her neck, drinking in her scent. Loving the way her chestnut hair falls behind my shoulder.
“You smell delicious,” I purr against her ear. Nibble it. It’s as soft and sweet as an apricot. And by the way she shivers against me, it’s a tender little erogenous zone. “Mmmm…I can’t wait until I can spend hours discovering what you like. Where you like to be touched… kissed…”
“Beck…” She reaches back, her left hand sinking into the hair at my nape as she squirms.
Her ass presses snuggly against my erection, and my eyes nearly roll back in my head.
Jesus Christ, the sight of her spilled out on top of me? The fact that my hands are free to roam her perfect body? I’m doomed.
I reach up and tap the remaining clasp that holds her overalls up. “May I?”
She nods, and just like that, I pop the clasp. I push down the bib, exposing her midriff and the ivory skin of her belly. My right hand glides over the gentle swell of her belly while my left slips under her top, and we both moan.
“You feel… so good…”
“Me?” Her one-word question is high pitched and reedy. “Your hands are… hot… and calloused.” I feel her swallow hard. “Such a turn on…”
My hands are calloused and her skin is so crazy soft. “Let me know if it’s too rough, honey.”
She shakes her head. “I like it.” And then I close my hand around her left breast, and she sucks in a gasp, dropping her head back on my right shoulder. “Oh… Oh…”
Her breasts are fucking spectacular. I pull up her top so I can watch as I cup them with both hands. When she gave them to me earlier, I thought I’d lose my mind in them. I want to spend a whole day with my face buried right here.
“So fucking gorgeous—” My heart pounds hard against her back. I’m sure she can feel it. “Jesus Christ.”
She writhes against me as I caress and squeeze. I want to suckle her tight nipples, to take as much of her into my mouth, and gladly suffocate under the rest.
“I gotta warn you—” My breath is choppy. “You moving like that? I might come in my pants.”
She tenses in my arms. “A-are you… joking?”
I tighten my hold on her perfect goddamn breasts. “Hell, no. Hattie, honey, you are the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed.” I sweep my tongue up her neck and behind her ear. “My only hope is that I make you come before I lose it with you on top of me.”
It is the fucking truth. My balls are so tight they’re practically in my ribcage.
“Oh, God,” she whimpers, snapping her hips. “Please—”
If she’s begging for me to touch her, I’m the luckiest man alive. I free her right breast and let my fingers skate down to her navel. “May I?”
She balls a fist against my thigh before thumping it firmly. “God, yes. Please—”
And that’s all I need. I flatten my hand on the soft flesh low on her belly and she wriggles.
“Lower,” she demands.
I chuckle into her hair. “I’m going, honeysuckle. Just wanna feel you… You’re so damn soft.”
My hand disappears beneath the waist of her bunched overalls.
She mewls when I sweep my fingertips along her bikini line, tracing the elastic band of her panties.
I want to yank the overalls all the way off her so I can see.
Watch. But I can’t let it come to that. No one on my crew has a reason to be in here right now, but there’s still a dozen men on the grounds.
And none of them are going to see Hattie like that.
“Beck—” She fists the hand in my hair, tugging insistently. No one’s ever pulled my hair like this. It sends a bolt of white-hot pleasure straight to my balls.
“Hattie—” My hips roll beneath her, my dick swelling and grinding into her sweet ass.
“Touch me!” she insists. “Down there!”
I reach lower and the tips of my fingers touch soft curls. I groan against her ear.
“Lower,” she whines, and I am in love with her demands.
Eagerly, reverently, I obey, finding the hothouse flower of her sex. She is drenched, quivering, and I nearly lose my mind.
“Oh—Oh, God—” Hattie grips my hair tighter.
I squeeze my eyes shut and part her, needing only to feel. And she feels like heaven. When the tip of my middle finger finds the slippery gem of her clitoris, we both gasp.
“Yes…” I rumble against her ear.
“Yes…” She echoes, pressing back against me.
I circle her, and her hips roll under my touch, her thighs flexing and unspooling above mine. I lick and nibble her shoulder, wanting to suck her here. Suck her everywhere.
And I want more. To go deeper. To be inside her.
When my middle finger slides lower to seek her entrance, she gives a little whine of protest.
“Don’t stop,” she pants.
“I won’t stop, honey.” And I don’t. When I slip my middle finger inside her and my thumb works her clit, tremors take her whole body.
“Oh—that’s—yes…”
Her snug, slick heat quivers around my finger, little seismic quakes that become my whole world.
“More?” I ask, sweat beading on my upper lip.
Her nod is reckless. “Yes. More.”
When I push a second finger inside and rub my thumb harder against her, Hattie’s back bows and she utters a sweet cry. It breaks and wobbles when I gently squeeze the breast I haven’t released and may never release.
“Oh, God—you press so much harder than I do—” The words rush out of her so fast I almost pull back. But I don’t. This is her pleasure. I’m giving her what she needs. I can feel it.
“Too hard?”
She almost breaks my nose when she shakes her head insistently, writhing in my lap. “Per… Perfect…”
I delve inside her heat, my own chest swelling at this sweetness. This closeness. The fact that this angel has let me inside her.
“Oh, God… Do that again.”
“This?” I thrust in, curling my two fingers and coaxing more of the little flutters. Then again and she gasps. Then again and—
“Beck—holy, holy fuck!” Hattie’s muscles lock, her heels digging into my calves, her fist tight in my hair, her head thrown back against my shoulder.
And if I thought she was beautiful before, the sight of her under the spell of her orgasm steals my breath.
I feel her coming, the gentle clenching and clutching against my fingers, and it’s the best thing I have ever held in my hands. I don’t stop. My fingers quest inside her, matching her tempo. I intend to draw out her pleasure for as long as it will last.
She’s. So. Fucking. Beautiful.
And no one has ever witnessed this but me.
And even in my awe, even in my triumph that I have brought her to this place, I’m jealous. Crazy jealous of anyone else who might one day have the chance.
“Oh-Jesus-stop-stop-stop—” she pants, batting at my arm.
I ease out of her and cup her firmly with my hand, drinking in her spent breaths and soaking up the sweet, boneless warmth of her weight on me.
Her eyes flutter closed, her breaths coming in deep, jagged pulls. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips glossy and parted, plump from my kisses. And I cannot fucking help my huge ass smile.
“You’re amazing,” I tell her, easing out of her panties and squeezing her tighter against me.
“Wha—you—I mean I—I didn’t do anything.” She rolls in my arms, bringing us front to front and gazing up at me, looking just a little dazed and a lot cute.
My laughter is rum sauce. I might even be drunk. “You did plenty.”
She smiles. “I… I liked it.”
I tuck down and press my lips to hers. “Me too.”
When I pull back, she licks her lips and tilts her head to the side, looking coy. “Can I… Can I do that to you?”
Impossibly, I swell even more in my jeans. I bite both lips, fighting for calm. “It’s—um… It’s not necessary?”
Her brow pinches. “You don’t think it’ll feel good?”
I almost cough up a lung. “Honey, I know it’ll feel good, I just—”
“Then why shouldn’t I?” She wriggles closer, pressing her bare breasts against my chest. The sight of them braced against my button down is the sweetest crime.
She grips my bicep once before running her hand down to the crook of my elbow. My breath stutters when she shifts and lets her touch run over my abs.
I make a noise in the back of my throat that sounds like, “Guh—”
The corner of her mouth lifts. “That’s not a very good reason,” she purrs, making me laugh in spite of myself.
Then she tugs at the top button on my shirt. “Can I open this?”
“Yes,” I rasp.
As if I could ever fucking tell her no.
Her gaze drops to her hands. “I love a button-down,” she says almost absently. And then, like she’s studying the stitching around the buttonhole, she makes slow work of releasing the button.
My dick twitches, and I vow to wear button down shirts every day for the rest of my life.
She moves to the next button, the one at my sternum. When she unfastens this one and my shirt falls open halfway, her breath catches.
Then she hurries through the next three and throws my shirt open.
“Beck! Jesus!”
I’m pretty sure Javier and the guys can hear her all the way across the fields.
“You’re a—a—what even are you? A god? A superhero? A Hemsworth?”
My laughter breaks free. God, how can this woman have me wound up so tight and crack me up at the same time?
“I’m sorry.” She shakes her head like there’s no hope. And then promptly whips off her top. “I’ve just got to feel you.”
Then, gloriously naked from the waist up, stunning me all over again with her beauty, Hattie dives into my arms.
“Guh—” I repeat, losing my mind the instant we are skin-to-skin. Her breasts brand my chest. My crazed hands lap up the soft expanse of her back, the thrilling curve of each shoulder, the silk road of hip to underarm.
She is soft everywhere.
She is a heaven everywhere.
I never want to stop touching her.
Judging by the way her hands map my skin, she might feel the same. She makes little noises as her touch finds my pecs, my waist, my shoulders.
Is this how animals feel, sniffing each other from head to toe?
No.
No.
Touching is the superior sense. The other four can’t come close to this.