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“You’re so fucking hot,” he growls, then he pushes himself against me, his lips against mine, the hard length in his jeans against the thin cotton of my panties.
I gasp, then I reach down and fumble with his belt. He pauses, lifting his crotch away from me, watching while I undo his jeans and yank them down, revealing white boxer briefs that cling tightly to him, sculpting around his manhood. The sight leaves little to the imagination, and it’s clear Ally is well-endowed.
I don’t have the patience to let him kick his jeans off—they can stay around his knees. Instead, I pull him back down on top of me.
“Yes!” I moan, our bodies now separated only by the thin cotton of our underwear.
Ally rubs himself up and down me, slowly, deliberately, and I gasp, spreading my legs wider, arching my back higher. I never knew dry-humping could be so hot! The wetness of our skin intensifies the experience.
“Yes,” I say. “Yes!”
He stops grinding to focus on our kiss, his tongue slipping into my mouth, playing with mine.
“Keep going!” I try to raise my hips back against him, to resume the delightful up-and-down movements.
But Ally pulls away from me.
“What are you doing?” I blink at him with wide, desperate eyes.
With a confident, self-assured smirk, he takes a hold of my panties and tugs them down. I’ve no chance to feel self-conscious or anxious because his enraptured expression tells me just how delighted he is by what he sees.
He places his hands on my thighs and plants gentle kisses up the inside of my left leg. He moves slowly, taking his time, his stubble tickling me. The anticipation is agonising as each kiss takes him further up my leg. My body tingles with excitement at the mere thought of what is to come. Finally, his lips reach their goal, and he presses a soft kiss against my slit.
And then . . . then his tongue gently runs up and down me. I let out a loud moan of pleasure. We’re in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of a rainstorm, and Ally is the only one who can hear me—I’ve no intention of holding back. I groan and pant in ecstasy. Ally’s tongue is his hidden special power, capable of doing things I didn’t know a tongue could do.
Pressure builds inside me. Ally keeps on going, one hand reaching up to palm my left breast. Rhythmically, I buck my hips into his mouth, the tension growing and growing. My legs quiver, my orgasm taking hold.
“Ally! I’m so close!”
When I come, I cry out, voicing my delight at these moments of bliss. When it’s over, I collapse, panting and groaning at the glorious feelings still shooting through me.
Ally lays himself down beside me and puts an arm around me. Utterly content, I place my head on his chest.
We lie like that for a while, his body keeping me warm despite the cold. Eventually, I prop myself up on one elbow and look down at him. His gaze is hungry, but he doesn’t press me. He just watches, waiting for my next move.
Still naked and wanton, I run a hand along his bare chest and abs, then I slide it down further, carefully skirting the bulge in his boxer briefs and reaching instead for his jeans, which are still around his knees.
“It’s about time these came off.”
He gives the widest grin, and I yank the jeans off and toss them aside. Then, placing one hand on each of his knees, I slowly run my hands back up him. Near the top, I again divert around him, avoiding his bulge, passing by his manhood by but a hair’s breadth.
He takes in a sharp breath. “You’re a fucking tease, you know that?”
I giggle then reach for the waistband of his boxers. I’m about to whip them down, to reveal exactly what he’s packing down there, when I hear something.
Ally hears it too. We both tense, listening.
“Let’s shelter in here, Marge,” a loud voice says. American, I think. Tourists?
I dive for my clothes.
“For fuck’s sake!” Ally hisses. He scrambles for his jeans, his expression murderous.
CHAPTER TWENTY
ALLY
“Balls!” I say as a plate slips from my fingers and smashes across the kitchen floor.
