Cool air rushes against my pussy.
We’re outside.
I’m naked.
Exposed.
And Heath’s driving his hard length deep inside me.
“Oh, god, yes,” I gasp.
I wrap my other leg around his hips and tilt my pelvis into his with every thrust of his cock.
My head falls back.
“So—fucking—gorgeous,” he rasps.
“You feel—so good,” I pant.
“My brave girl.”
“My knight.”
He flashes a grin, and then he’s kissing me as he fucks me against the truck until everything inside me bursts free.
My legs straighten, and I bite his shoulder to keep from screaming in the wilderness while my insides shake and quake and pulse around his rock-hard cock.
“Fuck, Cricket,” he groans as I feel the beat of his release too. “So—fucking—good.”
“I love you,” I gasp.
Again.
Shit.
He pins me harder against the truck while we come, his lips on my neck, my jaw, my lips?—
Stopping me from talking?
Or saying with his body what his tongue can’t?
Voices drift behind us.
Heath’s head snaps up.
I squeak softly.
He pulls out of my body so fast that I feel like he’s taken part of me with him, and then he’s shoving me into the truck, tossing my clothes and shoes in after me.
He’s buttoning his pants as he climbs in.
I’m still catching my breath, but I look at him, and he looks at me, and he looks down at my still-bare crotch, and I do too.
We lock eyes again.
And then we fall into each other, laughing until we’re both crying while Heath tries to cover my pussy with my pants and I try to stop laughing enough to kiss him.
It’s not just the sex. Not just the proximity. Not just the timing.
