He holds me down against him so I can feel how hard he is. “Does this feel like I’m just saying it?” he rasps into my ear, and I bite my lip trying not to moan.
“I want to take you right here, baby, in this chair where anyone could see. But they won’t, because we’re all alone out here,” he whispers, and my heart starts to pound in my chest. I feel myself getting wetter and wetter as the seconds go on. His lips stay attached to my neck.
“What about dinner?”
“I'm more than content eating you, baby. To devour every sweet drop that comes from you.” His other hand slides down my body and into my sweats.
“Mmmm,” I moan, my head falling back against his shoulder.
“That’s it, baby,” He praises, and I whimper. His fingers tease and toy with me over my panties.
I grip his arm, and my eyes roll back as he presses a finger inside me.He pumps his finger in and out of me a few times, and I can’t help the noises that slip out of my mouth.
“Oh God,” I gasp, and he sucks on my neck, leaving soft marks and sliding another finger inside me. He curls it and brushes against the spot inside me that has me seeing stars.
“Such a good girl for me, Sloane, so fucking good for Daddy,” He growls as my hips start to move on their own, grinding on his fingers and taking them deeper.
“Right there,” I moan, and he strokes that spot a few times, almost making me double over.
“You like that, baby?”
“Yes,” I rasp.
He doesn’t stop, even when I’m a trembling mess, and I can’t even form words.
“So close,” I manage to say through my moans. He adds his thumb to the mix, just gently rubbing my nub, and I’m done for. All it takes is a couple of strokes, and I’m flying over the edge.
“Ahhh,” I cry as I collapse against him. His fingers slow but don’t fully stop, letting me ride out the orgasm.
I lay collapsed against him, breathing hard as he pulls his fingers out of me. I watch as he brings them to his lips and sucks me off them.
“So fucking good, baby,” he says, kissing my cheek. I can’t even function. It’s like he broke me or something. Reduced me to nothing.
Neither of us says anything as I just lie against him, trying to find whatever pieces of myself that I can.
“You ok?” he whispers, his fingers running up and down my belly under my hoodie. His touch is light, almost like he doesn’t even realize that he’s doing it.
“Yeah,” I whisper, adjusting the way I lie on him. My head on his shoulder, my legs over the arm of the chair as he wraps his arms just a little tighter around me.
He lets out a contented sigh, and we settle into another comfortable quiet where we watch the fire burn, the sun set, and Mocha play with his toy.
Beck had prepared us a little Dutch oven with potatoes and meat. As it cooks, I begin to smell it, and it has my mouth watering.
“Thank you for bringing me out here,” I say, and he kisses the top of my head.
“Thank you for coming with me.”
As we settle in for the night, he seems to be lost in thought, so in order to make him talk to me, I open my mouth.
“I used to have a stuffed animal when I was a kid. I held onto this little guy for far longer than I should have. It was a soft, purple bunny that I got for Easter one year. I told that little bunny all of my secrets,” I whisper. I’m not really sure why I’m sharing this with him. Maybe part of me hopes it will get himto open up to me. “Did you ever have a comfort animal growing up?” I whisper, tracing random patterns onto his chest.
We fall back into a silence, and after a few moments, he responds, “Yeah, he was a stuffed Raccoon named Rocco,” He says. I run my fingers over his strong muscles, waiting to see if he’ll say more.
“Then let me be your Rocco,” I whisper, and his body stiffens slightly. Like that’s not what he was expecting.
He doesn’t open up to me about what’s going on inside his head, and it’s ok, because I opened the door. Now he just has to choose to walk through it.
“I dare you to go first,” I say with a smirk.
