I’m throbbing in my jeans. But I don’t fucking care about me right now. I care about making her feel incredible, as I leave a trail of open-mouthed caresses up her thigh, spreading her legs wider till I reach the slick, wet panel of her panties.
I flick my tongue against the lace. There. Right there. Where she’s soaked.
“Ahhh,” she murmurs.
“Quiet, sweetheart,” I warn, as I peel the fabric away, pushing it to the side, revealing her perfect, pink pussy. A groan rattles through me and I can’t wait to dive in. But I also need to protect her. I take a second, scanning the barn one more time, then tilting my head to listen. Satisfied we’re alone, I bury my face between her thighs.
And Isla stifles a scream.
It’s glorious, the way the muffled cry falls on my earsas I eat her like a starving man. I French kiss her pussy, then lick a long, hungry line down her wetness and back up, drawing a circle with my tongue on her clit.
Her hips arch in seconds. She seeks me out, asking for more with her body, and her hands that dive into my hair.
She holds on tight as I feast on her. She’s decadent, she’s dessert, and she’s the sustenance I crave. My head goes hazy, swimming with pleasure as I consume all this beautiful sweetness. Lapping her up on my tongue, kissing her passionately, scooping my hands under her ass and squeezing her.
I don’t slide a finger inside her. Well, a horse licked my hand after all. But I don’t need to. Because in a few short nights with Isla, I’ve learned my former matchmaker turned fake girlfriend has another favorite—she loves to be eaten out.
What do you know? It’s my favorite thing too. And I go to town, like she’s the five-course meal I’ve been craving all day, all week, all year.
I haul her closer, lick her faster, listen to her cues till she’s writhing and fucking my face in a one-horse open sleigh. I wrench apart for a second, only because I know she loves a filthy command. “Come on my face right fucking here,” I urge. “And don’t say a goddamn word.”
Her eyes are glossy as she nods vigorously. Her fingers grip my hair harder and she yanks me right back, then she does the sexiest thing ever—she just grinds against my face.
Holy fuck.
She’s so into it that she’s fucking me.
My mind is bursting with excitement. My chest is a furnace. My dick is thumping against the denim of myjeans as I kiss her sweet pussy till she freezes, shudders, then rolls her lips together, sealing in her cries.
It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, and I need more. But only if she’s willing to take another chance.
She must read my mind since she blinks off the fog, then glances down at the floor of the sleigh. “What are blankets for, after all?”
In no time, I’ve got the blanket spread out, her dress up to her waist, and I’ve maneuvered us both—somehow, there’s not much room—onto the sleigh so I can fuck her.
We barely fit, but we’ll fit where it matters.
As I reach for a condom in my pocket, Isla yanks open my pants, so damn eager. Her naughty enthusiasm makes me even harder, and I’m already approaching granite levels.
As I open the condom, she wraps a fist around my hard shaft. I shudder, my eyes squeezing shut for a second. “Feels so fucking good,” I mutter.
She presses a finger to my lips. “Shhh, Rowan, or I won’t let you come.”
“Oh, I’ll be quiet. Want to bet on it?”
“Yes,” she says with a lift of her chin. “If you’re quiet, I’ll let you plan another date.”
I laugh. “You know I’m doing that anyway, sweetheart.”
“And if you’re not, I get to plan a date.”
“It. Is. On.”
I roll on the condom, settle between her thighs, then sink inside. She’s tight and hot, and she fits me perfectly. I groan, long and deep, because…this. Her.Us.
Bracing my palms on the scratchy blanket, I look down at her bright eyes, her red lips, her vulnerable expression.
I can’t believe I’m here, sneaking off like this, stealing chances. But there’s no place I’d rather be.
