I can't believe I'm doing this. I'm outside, in an open field. Where anyone can see me, with a man I barely know.
I don't care.
I should, but I really fucking don't.
Gio is lying on his back, watching me with heat in his eyes, and I know my time is over.
He crooks a finger at me. "Come here."
With his guidance, I move up his body until my breasts are at his eye level. He leans up, taking one nipple into his hot, wet mouth, and I cry out, my body jolting with pleasure.
He sucks hard, then harder, sending a jolt straight to my core. My head falls back, and I groan.
Then he switches, giving the other the same attention, and I have to brace my hands on his shoulders to keep from collapsing.
I'm a mess, and he's just getting started.
He continues his assault on my breasts for a few more minutes, until I'm a writhing, panting mess, my hips rocking against him in a desperate search for release.
Then he pulls away, and I whimper at the loss.
"Stand up," he orders.
That's when it really hits me, where we are. On a hill in the middle of a field. Where anyone can see us.
And my boobs are hanging out.
What did I start? How can I stop it?
Do I really want to?
My breath catches. I stare down at him, my mind racing. This is too much. Too public. Too...exposed. A primal fear wars with the desire thrumming through my veins.
He must see the panic in my eyes, but he doesn't relent.
“Now, Bianca,” he commands. His hands move from my hips to my thighs, where he gives a hard squeeze and a little push.
I scramble off him, my feet sinking into the blanket, my jeans suddenly feeling constricting. I’m not sure what to do with my hands. I cross them over my chest in a pitiful attempt at modesty.
He sits up, his movements fluid and sure. He takes in my defensive posture, and a slow, predatory smile spreads across his face.
"Arms down," he says.
"I—" I start, but the words won't come.
"Down," he repeats, and this time there's an edge to his voice that I don't dare defy.
Slowly, I lower my arms, my hands fisting at my sides. My breasts are exposed, vulnerable, the moonlight washing over them. I feel a blush creep up my neck, but I force myself to meet his gaze.
His eyes are dark, intense, burning with a hunger that makes my stomach clench.
"Good," he says. "Now, the jeans."
My breath hitches. Here, now? Out in the open? The thought of it sends a fresh wave of panic through me, but underneath it, a dangerous thrill begins to build. I want to see how far he'll push me. How far he'll push me; how far I’ll let him go.
I look around. The fields are empty, the house a distant glow of light in the valley. The stars are starting to come out, dotting the darkening sky like tiny, watchful eyes.
My fingers fumble with the button of my jeans, then the zipper. I shimmy them down over my hips, the rough denim scraping against my skin. I kick them away, leaving me in nothing but my soaked black lace panties.
