Page 4 of Frog

“So, seven then?”

I managed to nod.

“Where?”

I gave him the name of the best place in town. “I can get the room,” I said, even though it would bankrupt me and delay my exodus another two weeks. But it would be well worth it to crawl into bed with a man who would fill my daydreams for the rest of my life.

“I’ll get the room,” he assured me, the curl of his lip intoxicating. “So, seven for sure?”

“Seven would be just fine.”

His eyes were all over me, and I heard his breath catch. “God, I really hope you’re a—”

“Top,” I said, needing that to be clear from the get-go. I had never trusted anyone enough to bottom for them, and I certainly wasn’t going to start with some stranger I wanted to fuck, no matter how hot he was.

“Yes.”

“I am,” I assured him.

He nodded.

“Should I bring rope?” I teased him, to see how far I could push it.

“Whatever you want just as long as you fuck me.”

It was going to be a hell of an evening. “No worries about that. Until tonight then.”

“Until tonight,” he said but didn’t move.

Everyone else was inside, and the SUV sat parallel to the drive and was big enough to obscure every view from the house. So I leaned forward out of the window.

“You wanna have a taste of me now?”

In answer he dropped the duffel bag he was holding, grabbed my face with both of his hands, and looked at me.

“Give me your tongue,” he ordered, and I realized for a bottom, the man was damn bossy.

I had a second to smile before his lips met mine, open-mouthed and greedy, crushing and rough, just how I liked it. My gasp of pleasure was cut off, leaving me to moan deeply into his mouth, a sound that brought a rumble of desire up from his chest.

He took what he wanted, and I let him, the kiss demanding and hard, his tongue stroking, tangling, pushing in deeper as he tasted and nibbled, ravaging my lips like I belonged to him.

When I shoved him back, we were both panting.

“Jesus,” he gasped, his big soft brown eyes wet and hot, his lips swollen and dark as he swallowed over and over.

“Step back,” I ordered him, feeling better, empowered, and no longer like a poor substitute for the prince he was obviously kissing frogs to find. As he moved to allow me to open the door and get out, I remembered that I was actually good at this part, the fucking part. Romance? Long-term commitment? Forget it. But right now, hot-and-heavy, living in the moment—that I could do.

“What are you—”

“Come here.” I grabbed his bicep hard at the same time I slammed the car door, wrenching the man forward almost off his feet and dragging him after me.

“Where are you taking—”

I turned so fast he nearly walked into me, stopping fast, having to lift his hand so he didn’t hit me, and laying it flat on my chest. “You want me to fuck you or not?”

He nodded, and I turned and pulled him after me, around the side of the house, down a short hill, through some bushes toward the barn where the machinery was kept. I took a left and shoved him up against the side of a smaller shack where the hand tools were kept. No one came down there in the middle of the day, in the heat, even though it was shaded where we were. I would hear anyone to the left walking over the gravel, and to the right was thick brush. We were safe.

“Get those pants down,” I told him, pulling a lubed condom from the back pocket of my Wranglers. “And that shirt off.”