Chapter 22 Hutch
Hutch
I wake up with a hard cock, and a shit ton of curly red hair in my face, Ginger’s messy bun having come undone in the night.
Apparently, we both have wandering hands because mine is under her shirt this time, and I currently have a handful of Ginger’s left tit.
The weight of it in my hand feels incredible, and I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t give it a little squeeze.
Her nipple puckers against my palm, and a sleepy smile tips up my lips while inhaling the sweet scent at the nape of her neck.
After a few more seconds of relishing finally having my hands on her again, I carefully pull my hand out—I’m not a complete and total prick—to keep myself from further feeling her up without her permission.
She let me get a little rowdy with her last night, and I can’t say the idea of having free rein to fuck her anytime I want isn’t appealing, because my cock gives a little jerk at the thought.
Last night was hot as hell, but even if we’d agreed to this being a thing we do all the time now, which we hadn’t, waking up and immediately going back for seconds isn’t the norm for me.
So, while I’d like nothing more than to pick up where we left off last night, my mind needs a little distance this morning.
Especially after the cold shoulder she gave me.
Still, I find myself leaning on an elbow to let my eyes roam her face. Her full pink lips are slightly parted in sleep and are a pretty contrast to her creamy skin and caramel freckles dotting her nose.
The weight of her hip over mine last night was sexy, and I admit, way more intimate than I’m used to. But oddly enough, it didn’t bother me.
Ginger’s long auburn lashes flutter a bit as I watch her. She doesn’t wake up, but mumbles something incoherent and rolls away from me and onto her stomach. She’s actually pretty cute when she’s not scowling at me.
Shifting carefully, I sit up and get out of bed.
Still in my boxers and sweats from last night, I pull on a clean T-shirt and slip my feet into my slides.
I’m starving, so I carefully slide open the side door and climb into the early morning light.
It has to be in the high fifties, but it’s overcast today, and with the breeze coming off the lake, it feels a lot cooler.
I decide to throw together a couple of breakfast burritos from ingredients I prepped earlier in the week, so once outside, I fire up the small propane camp stove and open up the cooler.
I also get coffee going, so it’s ready when she wakes up.
It doesn’t take long, and fifteen minutes later, I’m sliding the door back open to see if she’s up.
When I open the door and climb inside, Ginger rolls over onto her back, one icy blue eye cracked open. “Morning,” she says, eyeing the food I’m holding, “what time is it?
“Early,” I say, balancing the two reusable coffee mugs and a plate of food while I shut the door behind me. I slide my phone out and check the time. “Barely after seven.”
She groans and sits up, running her fingers through her hair. She flicks a glance in my direction but quickly looks away. I pretend not to notice and kick off my slides to sit opposite her. I set the plate of burritos between us.
She hums and makes grabby hands at me until I hand her one of the coffees with a chuckle. She shimmies herself over so she can lean against the side of the van, pops the lid off her cup, and inhales the steam before taking a sip.
That sound she makes shoots straight to my cock, like last night. Her eyes close as she drinks the coffee, while I devour the sight of her—messy hair, oversized tee hitched up over those thick thighs I ache to get between.
When I finally look up, she’s watching me. I brace for a snarky jab, but she lifts her mug and takes another sip. “This is perfect, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I set my coffee aside before grabbing a burrito for myself. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want sausage or bacon, so I made two of each.”
She reaches out, taking a sausage one, and the movement gives me the tiniest glimpse of her nipples through the thin cotton of her shirt.
What the fuck is going on with me? Jesus, it’s like I’m some sex starved maniac. I literally came less than eight hours ago. But it doesn’t matter. All I can think about is getting her naked and underneath me again.
“Thanks.” She uncrosses one leg, stretching it out until the tips of her pink painted toes barely brush my thigh. She drags her lips between her teeth, eyes on me.
I nearly groan at the perfect view of her lacy nude underwear. When our eyes meet, she smirks—knowing exactly what she’s doing. And I’m the sorry bastard falling for it, hook, line, and sinker.
She finishes her burrito and coffee, then scrolls through her phone while I knock back two burritos and my own. Grateful for the break from all that exposed skin, I stand to gather trash, snagging the extra burrito to stash once we put the bed up.
When I turn, Ginger stretches—arms overhead, legs on full display. Damn things could wrap around me easily, no question. I wouldn’t think twice about throwing them over my shoulders and fucking her into the mattress.
She catches my eye, still putting on a show. I’ve got a front-row seat, and there’s no looking away.
She shifts her weight before slowly swinging one leg off the bed.
I get a fantastic shot of her spread thighs before she slowly stands.
She’s so close I can feel the whisper of her body along mine.
Every nerve ending in my body fires to life when she pushes up onto her toes and tilts her head back, looking up at me through her lashes, her tongue darting out to wet her pink lips.
Her gaze drops to my mouth before coming back up to my eyes.
When I think she’ll close the distance and put me out of my misery, she tips the corner of her mouth up, eyes narrowing the slightest bit, and says, “Thanks for breakfast, Bigfoot.”
She turns around and bends over the bed to grab her phone, her ass brushing my cock as she does. Reaching forward, I grab her by the hips and yank her back against me, grinding into her from behind. She whimpers and her head drops forward, palms flat on the bed.
I feel like I’m going fucking crazy with need. Normally, I’d already have her bent over, face down, ass up, buried balls deep inside her. But this woman already has me breaking rules I’ve had for years.
Kissing her fucks me up enough as it is. Fucking her without a condom, well, that can’t happen. It would feel incredible, but even I’m not stupid enough to put myself through that again.
Still, when she pushes back hard against my cock, it’s all I can do to keep myself from yanking down my sweats and boxers, ripping those flimsy fucking panties off her, and sinking my dick inside her.
I grit my teeth and dig my free hand into the hair at the nape of her neck, wrapping the other around her chest to yank her upright, fully flush against me, her back to my front. Using her hair as leverage, I tilt her head, pressing my lips to her ear.
I drop my other arm between us to grab a handful of her ass and squeeze. “Keep pushing me, California, and I’m gonna take it out on this ass.”
Her chest rises and falls with ragged breaths. “Promises, promises,” she taunts.
Filthy images of her bent over, taking my cock in her ass, have me leaking in my sweats.
“Such a fucking tease,” I rasp, dragging my mouth up her neck. My tongue darts out to trail along the sensitive skin, then I suck hard on her pulse point.
Her breath hitches. “Maybe you should punish me.”
I shift my grip and bring a firm, stinging smack down on her ass. She gasps, then bites her lip, eyes flashing with wicked delight.
“See?” I murmur. “That’s what happens when you mess with me.”
She arches back, pressing into my hand.
Fuck. This woman. Could she be any more perfect? It’s completely silent in the van, save our ragged breathing.
“Are you wet for me, filthy girl?”
A shudder wracks her body, and she nods, her head dropping back onto my chest. “Yes,” she breathes out.
I shove a hand into the front of her panties, and she moans when my fingers slide down to her opening. She’s not lying. She’s so wet I can hear it. My mouth waters with the need to taste her, to consume every inch of her dripping wet pussy.
My fingers easily slide through the wetness, and her knees almost buckle, but she manages to stay upright. I make one slow pass from her entrance up, but circle wide enough that I avoid her clit before swiping back down, where I tease her opening with two fingers.
She rocks her hips; no doubt hoping that the change in angle will be enough to get me to press my fingers deeper inside her. But I swipe back up toward her clit, staying just shy of where she wants me.
“You like the idea of me punishing you?” I say against her ear. “Is that what’s got you so wet? Is it pushing me until I spank your ass red or the idea of me holding you down and fucking you until that pretty little cunt is ruined for anyone else but me?”
“Fuck,” she whispers, the word strained and desperate.
“Or maybe,” I say, driving my hand back down to gather more of the slick heat of her pussy before working my hand up under her shirt to swipe her arousal across a nipple. She moans. “Maybe you’d like it if I tied your hands and took that control you so desperately cling to.”
“Oh, God.” She swallows hard, nodding. I’m not sure which one she’s agreeing to, but I’d be willing to bet it’s all three.
“I need…” Her voice trails off, eyes squeezed shut.
“You gonna beg, California? If you want me to make you come,” I tell her, before dragging out each word. “All you have to do is…say please.”
She lifts her arm and shoves her hand into her panties, her fingers fighting mine to get to her clit.
“Ah, ah,” I chide, gripping her wrist. “You started this little game with me. You don’t get to finish it on your own.”