I don't answer.
I reach up and grip her hips.
She gasps, her hands gripping the ladder for balance. "What are you doing?"
"Helping," I lie.
I slide my hands up, gathering the material of her dress. I bunch it up around her waist.
Her skin is cool to the touch. My hands are hot.
She shudders.
"Gabriel, I'm on a ladder," she says. “Stop. I might fall.”
But she doesn't move away. She leans back, trusting me.
"I've got you," I promise.
I step between the rungs. I press my chest against her back, trapping her between my body and the tree. With our height difference, she’s lined up in the perfectly as she stands one step up on the ladder. The scent of pine is overwhelming now, mixing with her sweetness.
I’m hard. Painfully hard.
I haven't even touched her really, and I’m ready to burst.
"Spread your legs," I order, my mouth right against her ear.
She whimpers. "We're decorating."
"We're about to be fucking."
She hesitates for a second, then obeys. She moves her feet as wide as they’ll go on the rungs, opening herself to me.
Fuck.
The view is going to kill me.
I slip my fingers into the side of her panties and slide them down to her knees. She’s wet. I can see the sheen of it, smell the scent of what I do to her.
I don't waste time.
I don't undress. Don't have the patience for foreplay or to get us to the bedroom. I step back just enough to undo my belt and shove my hand into my pants, freeing my cock.
My phone vibrates in my pocket against my thigh.
I ignore it.
I line myself up, ready to push inside her.
"Hold on tight," I growl.
I thrust up.
She moans and her body jerks, the ladder wobbling, but I hold her steady.
Every inch of me is buried inside her body.
Goddamn.
