That’s it. One word. The only one I want to hear.
I ease out, then take my time filling her, driving deeper. Her hands slip down my body, traveling over my ass, lighting me up. I swivel my hips, then sink back inside, nice and slow and sensual.
We find a pace, one that’s lingering, one that’s like a slow, dirty song you want to dance to all night.
One that has us both gasping, moaning, reaching. Soon, we’re just hands and breath and bodies that don’t want to let go as I slow-fuck her into the night, edging her close, and closer. But never quite sending her over.
She shudders, then grabs my face. “Please,” she says, her voice wobbly, her eyes glittering with need.
“Please what, baby?”
“Please stop teasing me.”
I still my movements right as I ease out of her, leaving her empty. “This better?”
“No,” she cries out, grabbing my ass even tighter. “Make me come.”
I smile. Fucking love her orders. I dip my face and kiss her neck, but don’t press into her again. “You sure?”
She pouts. “Do it now!”
“Say my name. You know you want to,” I demand and tease.
She groans in frustration, but she’s arching her back, asking for more of me, begging with her body. “Lake, please make me come.”
I rise up on my knees, push on the back of her thighs, then thrust into her. I bring my thumb to her sweet, hungry clit.
She tosses her head back and moans to the sky.
I don’t slow-fuck her anymore. As she chases her orgasm, I do everything to find it for her, fucking her deep and passionately, using my fingers and my cock. Giving her everything she’s shown me she likes till her breathing is staggered, uneven, and then it’s just a long, keening sound as an orgasm wracks her body.
It’s gorgeous, the way it crashes over her.
I try to memorize the way she looks, record in my head how she sounds, wanting to keep that with me forever.
But my thoughts break apart as my thighs shake and I follow her there.
It’s never been like this for me—this connected, this intense, this…real.
It’s terrifying how much I want it to be the same for her.
48
MY BEST LIFE
LAKE
She might be done being a romance planner, but that doesn’t mean I’m throwing in the towel on planning romance with her.
I’m at the house in Cozy Valley, trimming my beard to get ready for the wedding this afternoon, barking questions at my phone to tackle number five on the to-do list.
“Where is a good place in Northern California to take someone glamping?”
“Wine country is considered by many to be a glamorous location,” the cool, modulated voice answers.
“Glamping,” I say, over-enunciating as I run the buzzer under my chin. “Where do I take someone glamping?”
“Experts recommend an Airstream, outfitted for luxury. Would you like a list of Airstream dealers?”
