I hiss as she sinks down on my finger. “There’s my girl. Ride my hand.”
She rocks gently, her breath shallow as she moans lightly. Her head drops to my shoulder helplessly. Sierra unzips my pants and reaches for me. My mouth waters as she pulls me out, heavy and thick and warm in her hand.
She rocks her hips and uses her momentum to slide her hand up my shaft. Precum instantly beads at the tip.
“I’m not going to last,” I warn. My balls are already tight. I wasn’t the one climbing, but now I feel like I am the one hanging onto the edge of a precipice.
“Shh,” she says. “Don’t fight it.” She kisses me sweetly, rocking her hips down as I add another finger inside her, her hand sliding back and forth to the same tempo as her body.
Little flutters vibrate in her smooth, warm channel. I try to help her get there, curling my fingers in her and circling her swollen nub with my thumb. She begins to thrust against my hand in earnest. Her back arches, her hand stabilizing herself on my shoulder clenches. Fingernails bite into my shoulder, but I don’t care. The feeling of my fingers inside her warm, wet, silken channel, her hand squeezing around my cock as she comes, and I am lost.
She is gasping, still lost in her pleasure that I don’t think she hears me warn her. Bright, white light sparks behind my eyelids as I come with a groan. I crush her to me and hold her tight against my chest.
Eventually, I pull her onto my lap and hug her against me. I feel vulnerable and a little shaky after the intense experiencewe shared, and I silently beg for her to hold me back. She sags against me, boneless, her eyes soft and drowsy from our exertions. I kiss her hair and the side of her head and the corner of her mouth. She presses back lightly against every brush of my lips, and my eyes sting a little at the sweetness of it.
I use my shirt to wipe her belly gently and between her thighs clean, ignoring her protests that it’ll ruin it.
“It’s an improvement,” I murmur. “Let’s put yours back on. I don’t want you to get sunburned.”
I help her dress so we can pack up and hike out of the canyon. She insists on going braless, and I don’t argue, though my eyes keep catching onto her swaying breasts under her shirt.
She’s quiet on the way back to the truck, and I hope it’s just a post-sex peace. We settle into the truck.
She turns to me with a smile. “Home?”
My heart skips a beat. “Yeah, let’s go home.”
Seventeen
Sierra
We ride back to the house in silence. Logan holds my hand the entire way back. His thumb skims gently across the back of my hand, and every once in a while, he shoots me a tender—dare I say it,loving—glance.
God, what have I done?
I am going to break this beautiful man’s heart again because I can’t keep it in my pants.
Nope. This is fine. Completely, one-hundred percent fine. I warned him. He’s an adult; he knows what he’s getting into.
He shoots me another one of his lovesick glances, and nausea swells up my throat. Even still, shame fills me. I once again knew what I was doing. I was teasing, poking, pushing, pushing, pushing until he predictably snapped.
Oops, I did it again. I should invest in a flirty plaid skirt and change my name to Britney.
I sag deep into my seat, feeling cold and shaky. I twist the airvents away from me, but it doesn’t seem to help. Between the mind-blowing orgasm and the hours of climbing, I probably have low blood sugar. That’s another thing, I just had to show off for him, didn’t I? I really pushed myself during that climb, getting off on every awed and shocked expression, every gruff warning to be careful.
Girl, what’s wrong with you?Shameless, vain, provocative, wanton. Seducing the Golden Boy of Sagebrush. Some people never change, and I’m one of them.
Oh, but it was such good sex, though.
He seems to sense my mood change. He lifts my hand to his lips and brushes a soft kiss against my skin. It’s so sweet and sexy, I nearly swoon, like some sappy Regency novel heroine. I stare at the curve of his mouth, how the lower one is so much plumper than the upper. It would look like a pout on anyone else less masculine. How good did it feel to have those lips on me? To have his hands on me, those gentle touches winding me higher and higher. Just the memory of it makes my knees feel weak again. I want to tell him to just pull over somewhere—anywhere—so he can make love to me again.
Make love? I groan. Sierra Marie Howard. You are in so much trouble.
“Are you okay?” Logan asks.
“Just hungry,” I mumble. True in all senses of the word.
“Let’s pick up some food,” he says, hitting the blinker. “How does gas-station Subway sound to you?”
