“Wow. Oh wow.”
I run my fingers over his soft beard and barely brush them over his lips.
“Yeah. That messed me up bad. After that, I threw a dart at a map, and that’s how I ended up here.”
I chuckle. “You threw a dart, and it landed square on Songbird Ridge?”
“Almost. Actually, Beech Mountain, but this town was close by. I thought that sounded like a place I wanted to visit. Like a place that could cheer me up.”
My fingers run along the line of buttons on his shirt until they reach the top one, opening it. Underneath I find his undershirt, and I’m anxious to be rid of all these layers as soon as we’re completely alone, and not just in the dark in a building full of people in the middle of an electricity outage.
“And did it cheer you up?”
“People might not think so. What do you all call me?”
“The Grumpy Yankee.”
“Right. That. Well, despite all nicknames to the contrary, yes. Especially within the last week.”
“Foster, I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you say so many words ever in two years since I’ve noticed you.”
“Talking wears me out. Can I be done talking for the year?”
“I co-sign that.”
His hands drift to the band of my sweatpants, and he slips his fingers in, petting my backside and effectively tugging my pants down.
I continue to unbutton his shirt, not sure where this is going to go tonight.
Our hands fumble with each other in the darkness, pulling at elastic and buttons and zippers, tugging away anything we can get a hold of.
My hoodie comes off, but I don’t bother removing my tee-shirt because I’m too frantically kicking off my sweatpants like a lunatic.
I grab him and kiss him, trying to wrap one leg around his middle in the darkness, but he makes it clear he has other plans.
“Lie back and let me show you what’s really been on my mind.”
Chapter
Eleven
Foster
There’s no hesitation from Ari.
I press open her soft thighs, adjusting her so she’s at the exact right angle for me to have my way with her.
Slowly, I tongue kiss the soft, wet gusset of her panties, reveling in her taste. Her scent. Her reaction.
“Oh…oh my god…Foster…”
Ari’s words are choked as she tries to stifle her cries, for fear of someone hearing us.
My Ari weeps for me. Her sweet honey leaks through the thin material as I lazily tongue kiss her there, ripening her, making her ache for more.
“Please, Foster…”
She’s so sweetly needy, I’m not going to last long.
