“Holden was a completely different person then,” I tell her.
The mom friend still looks kind of horrified, but she nods and leaves, Bradie and Duke following along with her. I turn back to Holden. That weird intense look on his face has deepened. “I’ll be two minutes. Don’t move.”
I watch him shoot across the ice and head off down the tunnel toward the locker rooms. I wander to the entrance doors and stare out at the emptying parking lot. By the time I hear footsteps behind me, there are only two trucks left in the darkening parking lot—his and the rink manager’s I assume. I glance over my shoulder to find Holden right behind me. He reaches up, cups both my shoulders and turns me around. The feel of his hands on me makes that warmth inside me grow hotter.
And then, without a word, he covers my mouth with his in a hungry kiss. I wrap my hands around his waist, my finger curling around the fabric of the back of his shirt, and he tangles his hands in my hair as his tongue slips into my mouth. I welcome him with a whimper. He presses his whole body against me, and the glass door rattles as my back hits it and he rolls his hips, grinding his hardness against my belly. I tug harder on his shirt, struggling to overcome the urge to just pull it off his body right here. The need to feel his skin against mine is blinding.
“Take me home. Please,” I beg against his lips. He grunts a yes and, holding my hand firmly in his, pulls me through the front doors and to his car.
The ride home is excruciating. All I want to do is strip him naked, run my lips and tongue over every part of him and then ride him into oblivion, but I have to wait. He’s staring straight ahead the whole ride and pushing the speed limit, clearly as eager as I am to get home. I move my hand to his thigh and let it ride up, skimming over his strong, hard muscles until I land on his rock-hard cock. I press my palm gently into it and rub him through his jeans. His jaw flexes under his scruffy beard and his knuckles turn white on the steering wheel.
“Winnie…” He hisses my name as a warning. A warning of what? That if I don’t stop he’ll pull over and take me on the side of the road? Like that’s something I don’t want? I squeeze him again.
We’re on the long, narrow main road that leads into our town. It’s lined on both sides with century-old pines, which is where Ocean Pines got half its name. The area is technically parkland, but other than a few bird-watching tourists and kids looking for a place to drink in the summer, it’s always empty. When I rub him slowly for a third time he yanks the wheel to the left, cutting across the double line and pulling the truck into the edge of the trees, off the street. He jams it in park, unclips his seat belt and lunges across the cab to kiss me again.
“You push every damn button, good or bad, that I’ve ever had,” he growls against my throat, his beard scratching my skin and sending prickles of pleasure through my body.
“I’m just returning the favor,” I say and dip my head to join our lips.
If our last kiss was hungry, this one is starving. He reaches around me and unclips my seat belt and then, yanks me closer. I do one better and climb right into his lap, never breaking the kiss.
We’re tugging and yanking at each other’s clothes like desperate, wild animals. I manage to get his shirt off and he gets mine up enough that he can pull down my bra and wrap those perfect lips around my nipples. But then as I fumble with the belt on his jeans and bang a knee against the console next to me, I realize that anything more in the confines of this front seat is impossible. Holden is a big boy—in every way—and I’m too tall for this too.
He must have the same thoughts as he tugs on the back of my leggings and accidentally punches the horn. He pulls his mouth from my breasts and tips his head back to look at me. His silver-blue eyes are wild. “Fuck this.”
He reaches for the door handle and pushes open the door with one hand wrapping the other around my back. He starts to turn, getting out of the car with me still sitting on him so I wrap my legs around his back. He places his free hand on top of my head pushing it down a little. “Watch your head.”
He swings his legs out, stands up and starts walking. The setting sun isn’t penetrating the thick overhang of pines much and so everything around us is dark and the air cool. The pine needles crunch underneath his work boots and I close my eyes and kiss my way up the side of his neck, his jugular pumping wildly beneath my lips. Then suddenly the sound under his feet grows solid. I look down. He’s on the small, covered footbridge that runs over a tiny ravine about fifty feet into the forest.
It’s even darker in here and it smells like wet wood planks and damp pine needles. His lips glance over my jaw. “I’m going to fuck you right here.”
He lowers us to his knees. I unhook my legs from his waist and kneel in front of him as he quickly unfastens his belt and jeans. I push my leggings down my thighs along with my thong. “No,” I tell him kissing his collarbone lightly before nipping it. “I’m going to fuck you right here.”
I grab his shoulders and push him back. He falls back onto his bare ass as I get one leg out of my leggings and climb into his lap again. His wide, strong hands spread out across my back just below my bra and he bites a nipple through the thin cotton fabric. It causes me to arch my back and push my bare pussy into his bare shaft. If lightning clapped across the sky right now it would be less electric than the current that runs through me from that intimate touch.
I grab his head in my hands and join our lips again, my tongue sweeping into his mouth, colliding with his. I pull my hips up and lower myself onto him. He tenses as soon as my entrance finds his tip. But I refuse to break the kiss and let him warn me. I know what I’m doing. I hold his head in place, keeping my lips to his and lower myself completely over him. But he grabs my hips before I can start to ride him.
His light eyes are clouded with lust but serious just the same. “Winnie. Protection.”
“IUD,” I whisper and run my hand gently across the side of his face, letting the beard tickle my palm. I lean forward and kiss the side of his jaw just below his earlobe. “And I don’t need protection from you.”
His grip on my hips relaxes, and I start to move. God, he feels incredible. This is incredible. His hands and lips roam my body as I roll my hips and move up and down, finding the perfect rhythm. As our releases build, he starts whispering to me, his lips against the crook of my neck.
“You’re dangerous. This is dangerous…,” he confesses and I start to slow my pace, worried he’s still concerned about the lack of a condom. But he grabs my hips again and keeps moving me, hard and fast. Our eyes meet. “The way you feel around my dick…the way you make me feel when I just look at you. Fuck, you’re beautiful, Winona.”
My thighs quiver as my orgasm rips through me. He holds me closer with one hand, pressing our torsos together, and uses the other to balance as he continues to push into me until, moments later, I feel his whole body tighten and he lets out a guttural groan. He collapses back onto the wood floor of the bridge and I go with him. After a few seconds of catching our breath he rolls us over so we’re on our sides facing each other. He gently runs a hand across the side of my face and into my hair. I can barely make out his beautiful face because the sun has set and it’s almost pitch black now in the bridge. And it’s freezing. I shiver. He starts to sit up and pulls me up too.
“Let’s get you home.” He stands, pulls up his pants and reaches for me.
I quickly wiggle back into my leggings. He pulls me to my feet and we leave the bridge, hand in hand, and make our way back to the truck. I pause before climbing in and brush the pine needles off his back. He turns to face me, shirtless, a sexy, satiated look on his rugged features and the moonlight glinting off his hard, bare upper body. I let my fingertip trace the lines of his arm tattoo. “You kind of look like some kind of hot country singer out here in the woods in your faded jeans, work boots and nothing else.”
“You’re a country music fan?”
I shake my head. “No, but Sadie is. You, sweetheart, would sell a hundred albums looking like this. Maybe you should take it up as a side gig.”
“First of all, I’m definitely a rock-and-roll boy.” He smirks, which makes my panties wet—again. “And secondly I sound like a dying cat when I sing.”
I burst out laughing. He leans forward and kisses me with a dominance that does nothing to help my panty situation. “Well, I think I might buy you a cowboy hat and maybe some chaps anyway. You know, for future role play.”
