“You feel so good,” I whisper, my mouth finding the skin of her neck again. Mellie arches in response, and I place a kiss against the side of her throat. My teeth nip at her skin and I run my nose up the length of her neck, my hand kneading her breast. “Yousmellso fucking good.”
Mel reaches up for the hand under her sweater and pulls it down. “Ronin, touch me,” she pants, grindingher ass against me. She lifts her right leg, opening her thighs ever so slightly, and begs, her voice full of need,“Please.”
“Since you asked so nicely,” I manage, immediately dipping beneath her pants and finding the wet apex of her thighs. I groan. “You’re so wet for me, Mel. You are so fucking perfect.”
She moans when I run a finger through her center and I cover her mouth to stifle the noise. I push a finger inside of her and her legs fall wider apart.
“Shit,” she murmurs. “Fuck.”
I slide in and out, adding a second finger while kissing and sucking on her neck. She moans quietly, moving her hips in time with every entry. My cock hits her ass again as I push up behind her.
Slipping my fingers out, I run through her wetness to rub her clit. She responds with a small whimper, thrusting herself against my hand. I push my fingers back inside her, leaving my thumb to roll against her most sensitive spot and begin pumping in and out. When I bend at the knuckles, curling inside her, she cries out, so I do it again.
“Better keep it down, sweetheart,” I rasp. “Unless you want the whole campsite knowing how hard I’m going to make you come.”
“Ronin,” she gasps, riding my fingers with abandon. I groan into her hair, plunging harder and grinding against her, my own release threatening.
As I curl my fingers once more, I push my thumb against her clit, and she shatters completely. She covers her mouth with a hand in an attempt to quiet her cry as she rides the wave of pleasure. My fingers never leave as I coax every ounce of her climax out of her, no longer able to restrain myself. I thrust my throbbing cock against her ass, groaning and shuddering against her back as I come as well.
We lay there for a moment, breathing hard.
I can’t believe I just got off in my pants without Mellie even touching me. I should feel embarrassed, but I’m not. That was fucking hot.
“Holy shit, that was amazing,” Mel whispers, out of breath. “I’ve been daydreaming about those long fingers for fucking months.”
My heavy breathing hits her neck as I try to recover my own composure, but I can’t help the smirk that stretches across my face at her words.
“Are you okay back there?” she asks quietly while my heart pounds against my chest.
I pull my hand out of her sweatpants. Mellie rolls onto her back, her head tilting to mine. She’s staring up at me with an expression I’ve never seen on her before. It’s filled with desire, heavy with a lust I feel deep in my bones. There is also a sense of adoration in her eyes, like she’s grappling with the reality of what just transpired as much as I am.
I huff out a laugh at her question. “Fuck yes, I’m great,” I say. I run my other hand through my unkempt hair. “Are you okay? That was?—”
“Hot as hell?” she interrupts. She smirks at me, pulling her pants and sweatshirt back into place. “An amazing orgasm? And judging by the state of your sweatpants, I’d say not just for me.” Her gaze dances as she reaches up to run her fingers through my loose hair.
I rest my hand on her face, my fingers trailing down her cheek. My thumb grazes gently over her bottom lip and her intense eyes meet mine. We stare at each other for a few breaths.
Finally, I break the silence. “Well, I guess I should change my pants.”
Mellie bursts out laughing and I join her, resting my forehead against hers.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
MELLIE
With the tourist season in full swing, and the first big spring festival happening this week, the bookstore is overwhelmed with a constant flow of customers. The downfall to busier business is that I haven’t had as much time to work on my story as I would have liked. As I hurry back up to the front register with a book requested by my current customer, I decide to set aside time to write tonight. The deadline for submissions is looming. It’s time to get serious if I want to be done in time.
I finish ringing up the last customer in line, and a deep sigh escapes me as I lean back against the desk, blowing hair out of my face.
“I’m still not used to all of these extra people after how easy it’s been since I started here,” I tell Sydney.
She’s sitting on the stool behind the desk, fanning herself with her hand. Today, her curly, light brown hair is plaited into two braids, one hanging down each shoulder. She has tiny little bows tied around each end. On anyone else, it would seem childish, but Sydney makes it work, like she does with anything she wears. Her outfit of the day is an off the shoulder, slouchy sweater complimented by a thin, black choker. Meanwhile,there’s me, her total opposite in my denim overalls and little white tee, a long sleeved flannel tied around my waist.
“Oh hun, this is nothing. Just wait until summer hits. It’s a whole different vibe,” Sydney responds. “Although, I didn’t realize the Tulip Festival was going to bring in so many tourists. We haven't hosted it since I moved here.”
The entire town square has been taken over by the flowers, with elaborate displays in many store fronts and across the grassy lawn by the gazebo. People have been milling around all week, taking photos in front of some of the more picturesque displays and buying bouquets of the colorful, fresh flowers. Imogen and Erica have the most extravagant display of all. They must be in heaven.
“At least it smells amazing out there,” I point out.
