“Haven’t done that for a while.”
“Kiss?”
“Three years.” The admission tumbles from my mouth.
Her gasp twists in my chest.
For a while, we exchange air, listening more than anything else. I fight the urge to lift my hips. I fight the urge to move, to run. I think she’s watching me, but we’re too close to tell. And the dark wouldn’t tell me anyway.
“I’veneverbeen kissed like this.” She moves in, probably in an attempt to see if we can do as well the second time. At the last moment, I angle my head and kiss her cheek, her jaw, then lower—her neck. Sounds flow from her mouth like syrup—a sweet, slow treble counterpoint to the night’s frantic bass.
I give in and flex my ass, showing her how hard she’s made me, how much I want her—also possibly avoiding more soul-bruising intimacy.
I’m a coward, hiding in the dark.
Mouth suddenly hard, I grip her skirt. It’s a long, fluffy cloud of fabric, trapped between our bodies and it’s all I can do not to tear it.
“Hold on.” Her hand lands light on my shoulder and she shifts, gathers the whole pouffy thing and drags it up to let it pool around us. Then, as if she’s read my mind, she moves again, this time allowing access to my fly. When I go to unbutton it, she brushes my hands away. Almost bossy. Like she’s in charge.
My growl rolls out from someplace deep and usually quiet. She ignores it in favor of freeing the other beast from my underwear.
Her hands are too careful on my pounding cock. I want her mean, I want scratches and bruises. I want rough, punishing strokes. Instead, she pulls me out like I’m fragile.
I’m about to show her how tight I need it when she bends forward and presses her lips to the weeping tip. This kiss breaks me right down the middle. It tears me in half and there’s not a thing I can do about it.
I can’t move, my lungs can’t take in air, my voice is frozen in my throat. All I can do is strain to see the woman who’s stripping me barer by the second.
It’s a relief when her tongue joins in. I need her teeth. “Bite it.” I just remember to keep my voice to a whisper. She scrapes my skin. I slide a fist into her hair. “Harder.”
Instead of doing what I want, she sinks deep, taking half my cock into her hot mouth in one go. I pull her back by the hair and she wrenches herself from my grasp, diving back in for more. She laps at the precum beading at my slit and I grunt, use her hair to hold her. She fights it—oh, yeah—turns and bites me. This time, the teeth scrape just right. The pain’s a light in the dark.
I follow it, deeper into this thing that’s not anonymous, that’s not one-time. That’s not ending with a clean, easy break. I follow it because, right now, right here, this light is the only thing I have.
I tug at her hair. She takes me deeper, gagging herself on me.
“What’s your safe word?” I hiss, tightening my fist and pulling her off me.
“Red.”
“How do you stop me if you’re too full of dick to say it?”
She taps me twice on the thigh. “Good.”
Say my name.
I clench my jaw, shut my eyes. “Suck it.”
In response, she moans and drops right back to what she was doing. Her lower body’s swaying, hips working hard to press her cunt to my knee. I can’t imagine she’s getting much pressure, though the wet spot’s soaked through to my skin.
This time, she doesn’t kiss or fondle. Her hands don’t hold me like before. Instead she works her mouth down and down until she’s choking at the widest part. I stroke both hands against her skull, dig my fingers into silky hair that I see in my mind as dark brown ropes, and make her take another inch.
She gags, her throat flutters. Saliva drips hot then cold, coating me, slicking the whole filthy thing. Her head tries to lift and I let it, give her a chance to breathe. She hardly takes it before she’s back on me, around me, so hot and tight and wet that it’s an effort not to blow.
Another press down, her body writhes for air, the need in my dick is agony.
In this moment, I want more. I find her tit under cotton, twist the nipple through the material and—fuck me—she’s pushing harder, bottoming out, clasping me with her throat, giving her body up to my pleasure and it’s too much. It’s too fucking much.
My head falls back against the tree. I stare dully at the night sky. The stars are so fucking bright, twinkling with some message from space. The leaves scrape and scratch and rustle in the wind, branches dancing with glee.
