Page 16 of Pumpkin to Talk About

“Bend over and put your hands on the tree trunk, Belle,” he commands.

I am helpless to do anything but exactly what he says. The trunk of the tree is rough under my palms. Mike slides his hands up my inner thighs, coaxing them open further.

“Your ass is fucking perfect.” His voice sounds almost reverent, as he grips the skin hard, spreading me open for him. He guides the tip of his cock over my clit, and I tremble with anticipation.

“You want this?” he asks as he glides the head through my wetness. “You want me to fuck you out in the open like this?”

“I want it, Mike. Please,” I whimper. “I need it.”

Before I can beg any more, he’s inside of me. He stretches me deliciously full, both his hands on my ass now to help angle me for him. Slowly, he moves in and out, pushing further each time until he’s fully seated.

“You feel incredible,” he says. “Are you okay?”

“God yes,” I breathe. “I haven’t been this okay in a long time. Don’t stop.”

He chuckles as he slowly drags in and out, in and out. “All right then. But you have to be quiet for me. Can you do that?”

“I make no promises,” I tease.

For that, I’m rewarded with a hard thrust. Our skin smacks together, and my palms scrape against the bark of the tree trunk. An “oh” escapes me, louder than I intended.

“Mmm-mmm,” he cautions as he thrusts hard again. “I said you need to be quiet. You wouldn’t want your friends knowing I’m fucking you over here, would you?”

“No,” I groan as quietly as I can.

“Good girl,” he whispers, reaching his hand around to play with my clit again. Before long, I’m shuddering and panting. Pressure starts to build at the base of my spine. I use the tree trunk for purchase as I meet his hips with my own. Little moans and breaths escape both of us as we work each other higher and higher. When he lifts my sweater over my breasts so he can grip them roughly with his palm, I let out a low sound that starts in my chest and works its way out into the night air.

“Shh,” he cautions me.

“I’m so close,” I whisper. “It feels so good.”

The hand cupping my breast closes over my mouth. “Let go, baby,” he says into the shell of my ear. “Come for me.”

With a few more thrusts, I come undone. My body shakes in waves of pleasure. I cry out into Mike’s hand, which muffles the sound. It isn’t long before he follows me over the edge.

When our breathing slows enough, he pulls out. I quickly adjust my pants, and he removes the condom to do the same. He jogs back to the trash can on the path to dispose of it and is back at my side in a second. When he nears, he wastes no time gripping the back of my head and pulling me in for a slow, languid kiss. That kiss is everything—sensual and full of feeling. And even though my knees are weak and my mind is buzzing, I still want more. I want to see Mike naked in my bed. I want to ravage his body and wake up next to him.

“Come home with me.”

It’s a statement, not a question, but he doesn’t hesitate. He smiles that pearly white grin and says, “Let’s go.”

Chapter 11

Mike

Belle and I don’t get much sleep. The way her body fits with mine is intoxicating. It seems she feels the same way, because we can barely keep our hands off each other the whole night. When her eyelids finally start drooping at around two in the morning, I kiss her forehead and tell her to sleep. She’s out in seconds.

I doze a little, but my mind is racing. Every nerve ending is on fire. Belle—naked and laying on her stomach next to me with her upper back exposed over her comforter—is so fucking gorgeous. I don’t want to close my eyes and sleep. My time here is short; I don’t want to waste another minute not looking at her.

Eventually, the birds start chirping outside. There’s no light coming in through her bedroom window yet, but I’m restless. I don’t want to wake her—especially because I know she’s got a late shift at The Broken Spur tonight—so I get out of bed as carefully as I can, pull on my boxers, and walk to her kitchen.

I put my hands on my hips and look around. We went straight to the bedroom last night, so I didn’t have much time to explore. But when I see an espresso machine and milk steamer in the corner of her counter, I know I’ve hit the jackpot. If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s make lattes.

It only takes a few minutes to find everything I need. Her espresso machine looks brand new—not a stain or a scuff to be found. It makes me think she’s never used it before.

Somehow, it’s unsurprising to find a set of mismatched mugs in her cabinet. A few are chipped, and one is missing a handle. I take down the two biggest ones I can find and get to work brewing the espresso and steaming the milk.

My phone buzzes on the counter where I left it last night. I’m surprised the thing still has a charge. When I pick it up to look at it, I wish it were dead. Instead, rapid-fire messages from all four of my sisters light up the screen.