Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
W hen Butch picks me up on Sunday morning, our mouths meet with such intensity—heady chemistry and longing churned together—that it’s a struggle to get out the door.
“If we don’t leave now, I’m going to keep you holed up in here all day.” He grips the back of my neck. I arch into him.
“Mm-hmm,” I mumble into his mouth. The straining erection behind his jeans fills me with need, and I grind forward.
He groans and forces us apart. “You win. A quickie.”
“Yes!” I hiss with a fist pump.
He spins me around so I’m hugging the couch then yanks down my pants and underwear in haste, shoving them to my ankles.
“Goddamn, you’re a sight,” he murmurs, buckle clinking as he flicks it undone.
Anticipation floods my body, my ass bared to him in offering.
His hand—that delicious working-man hand—cups my mound.
A string of curses leaves his mouth when his thick fingers breach my opening and find me saturated.
Butch doesn’t prepare me more than that; he thrusts his massive dick right into the promised land. Our moans ring out in the small space, and I nearly pass out from the pleasure, the crudeness, the rightness of it.
He fucks me like a man possessed, in hard strokes that ram me into the sofa enough that it skips forward. I want him to take it, take me . In this moment, there is nothing but this, us, his sheer power, and my desperation to receive it.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
He quickens, and I know he’s close. It makes me whimper—his thrusts even deeper, unrestrained.
I’m moaning loudly, desperate for everything he’s doling out, spurred further by the masculine grunts giving him away.
His orgasm erupts, and he grinds his hips as he spills into me with a husky groan.
On its heels is angry pounding from the downstairs neighbors airing their grievance at the noise. Oops .
We both shake with quiet laughter as Butch collapses forward, pressing our bodies together. We’re still clothed on our upper halves, but his arms around me feel like protection. Respect. More.
“Fuck, baby.”
“I know…” I say, not even sure how to respond.
“I’m going to finish this when we get back.”
I smile. He’s worried about me getting mine. But he needn’t be. I’m wholly satisfied...for now. “That was divine.”
“You are the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever known.”
Those words serve as their own caress, better than any climax.
It’s cool and overcast, which turns out to be a vivid backdrop for viewing fall splendor.
Butch takes his time as we travel the Blue Ridge Parkway, miles of scenic road that meander through nature’s paradise, cutting through mountains, providing vistas that leave me speechless.
The trees in their blazing golds, oranges, and reds are nothing short of dramatic against gray skies.
It’s as if God swooped down and painted the landscape, stealing my breath with its majestic glory.
I’ve never beheld anything so spectacular, even more poignant as I realize these leaves are singing their swan song. Once they fall from their branches, they’ll wither, fray, and melt into the earth. I’m awed by its beauty, and that I’m glimpsing it right now, before it’s gone.
“Mother Nature puts on one hell of a show, doesn’t she?” Butch says.
I meet his exuberant gaze. “Magnificent.”
We stop at overlooks. Steal kisses. Hold hands. Break for a late lunch. And then return to my place, where we spend a few hours in bed, exploring each other, talking and laughing, insatiable for all of it and more.
The witching hour arrives, signaling his imminent departure. Butch cups my face, staring down into my eyes for a moment before his lips find mine. We share a kiss that’s gentle, sincere, and tinged with longing.
My heart tumbles in my chest, straining toward his like it’s never been broken.